


Honeycomb

by khaoticwoes



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternate Universe - Tangled (2010) Fusion, Best Friends, Brotherly Bonding, Clay | Dream and Toby Smith | Tubbo are Siblings, Family Dynamics, Fluff and Angst, Inspired by Tangled (2010), Magic, Manipulation, Manipulative Relationship, No Romance, Platonic Relationships, Rapunzel! Tubbo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:35:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 37,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27763843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/khaoticwoes/pseuds/khaoticwoes
Summary: All Tommy wanted was to be a bounty hunterAll Tubbo wanted was to see the magical beesAll Dream wanted was to keep his brother safe, no matter the cost
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit
Comments: 123
Kudos: 496





	1. Prologue

The air was thick with smoke and dread. None in the royal procession dared to speak. At the front were the dead king’s oldest sons, the four of them each holding a large torch. The sky was filled with oranges and deep blues, colors that were mirrored in the boys’ somber clothing and bright flames. The procession of soldiers and royalty continued marching behind the princes and the cart carrying their father. Each one carried a small, glowing stone. The people of the city were silent as they passed. 

The horse-drawn cart stopped as it reached the sea. Soldiers rushed forth to carry the coffin onto a small boat tethered to the dock. As they hoisted the ornate box onto their shoulders, members of the procession gently placed their small glowing stones in hollows carved into the coffin’s lid. Once placed into the small boat, it was surrounded by a soft light. The four princes walked forward to the pyre. Each one laid the burning end of their torch to the boat, setting it alight. According to custom, the only heir to the kingdom would keep their torch and carry it back to light the palace fires. But none of the princes let go of their torch. 

It seemed the whole kingdom was holding its breath. The only sounds were the lapping of the waves and the crackling of the fire. The black smoke from the pyre wafted into the heavens. The bells of the palace towers rang. The four princes started to lead the procession back to the palace. 

At a monarch’s funeral in days past, the city would shout and sing for the crown prince. Bells and bands would echo off of the stone brick houses and the tall walls of the city. But not this time. 

The oldest prince led the way. His blue eyes were clouded with worry. _Will my family last the night?_ , he wondered. He looked back on his brothers. Their eyes were all cast in different directions. His grip on the torch tightened as he thought about his mother. She had stayed at the palace, caring for the kingdom’s two youngest princes, her youngest sons. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, imagining a future where the twins could grow up safe. Where they could have a whole family, not torn apart by the crown. The crown some of his people wanted him to wear and the crown others would kill him for. Tears pooled in the corners of his eyes as he thought of the mess he was living in. He may be the oldest of his brothers, but his mother was only a concubine. Those who wanted him to be king called her the queen, but the real queen was a different woman. She only had one son: the youngest prince at the funeral. As much as his older brother loved him and as much as it wasn’t his fault, he was the reason the palace wouldn’t sleep easy tonight. 

The second prince kept his eyes to the ground. He didn’t want to be here. He could feel the stares of the people as he walked the cobblestone roads. He had contemplated running away, but he couldn’t leave his brothers, not even for his beloved muse. He looked at the back of his older brother’s head. What was going on inside? Was he as worried about what would happen with their father dead? The second prince sighed. His brother had been nervous since the king died, always tapping his foot and peering around corners for danger. The pillar of their family was cracking under the strain. If it fell, would he be able to take its place? It felt like there were vines wrapping around his heart and thorns growing in his mind. It hurt to think and it hurt even more to feel. There was so much pressure, and this prince was only second born. 

The third prince stared into the fire in his hand. He felt numb. With every step, he cursed the people who wanted to be king. Even his mother, who pushed him in his studies and training. The woman who honed him into a weapon just because of his rose colored hair and blood red eyes. The hair and eyes of his great grandfather, the first king and a hero in his time. The hair and eyes of his great grandfather would have been a blessing to any other person, but the third prince despised them. How would his life be different if he looked like one of his older brothers? Would he be as resilient and kind as his eldest brother, or creative and full of dreams like the second? But maybe he was a bit like his brothers. The prince had dreams, they were just different. The prince was resilient, oh yes, by the spirits he was. One’s skin becomes thick and scarred from years of pestering, punishment, and battle. 

The final prince of the procession dug his nails into his palm. His heart was beating with the force of a thousand hammers. For one of the first times in his life, he was truly terrified. There would be no going back at this point. He knew all of the plans and the rumors of plans for that night circulating the city. He had friends who were able to sell much more gunpowder than usual in the past week. He had explored the tunnels under the castle as a young child. He knew what was going to happen, so why was he so scared? He knew he could get out in time. _But what about my brothers?_ The thought gnawed at him constantly. He loved them, he really did. But this was _his_ kingdom. At least that’s what everyone he talked to told him. 

The four princes returned to their castle, and each knew only one would be king.


	2. Heist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy had a brilliant plan, just like all of his plans. If he wanted to join his family on bounty hunts, then he had to prove himself. To him, the answer was obvious: _crime_.

The breeze was crisp and strong when Tommy snuck into the city, but now that he was perched precariously on a tall wall of the castle, crisp and strong felt a bit weak to describe the wind cutting through his roughly woven shirt and vest. With only the sky below him, he could feel the ebb and flow of the wind, like the world itself was breathing. It was terrifying. 

But Tommy was a man. _The alpha male in fact_. Even so, George and Sapnap told him time and time again that only adults were bounty hunters and could join them in their usual hunts in the forest, and today was no different. _Little gremlin child_ was what they always called him when he asked. Sure he was only sixteen, but he was a much bigger man. In fact he was one of the biggest in his ragtag family. For George, in all of his short glory, to look _up_ at Tommy (who was almost half a head taller) and say that he could not come along was frankly insulting. Of course he complained, but George only laughed and reached up to pat Tommy’s head before leaving with Sapnap and Bad. _Stupid Gogy_.

The moment the trio left the room, Tommy whirled around and marched towards the rest of his family and asked them what he needed to do to finally join them. As always, their answers varied and were no help at all.

_Fighting_ is the typical answer from Sapnap (other than arson). Tommy swears he can easily beat that criteria (both of _them_ ), no matter how much George and Sapnap rolled their eyes. 

_Agility_ is what Fundy says. Tommy brushed it off. He hadn’t had the luck of getting possessed by a fox spirit and living to tell the tale. Being able to run and jump with the agility of a small animal was an unfair advantage against someone _normal_. However, Tommy was around ten hands tall and his long legs must count for _something_.

But of all the answers he received, his favorite one was from Skeppy:

_Chaos_. 

No matter how much Bad vehemently chastised Skeppy for even thinking to say that to a child in the first place, the memory was permanently seared into Tommy’s brain. He could see Skeppy’s eyes sparkle with as much brightness as the diamonds encrusted in patches on his skin as he regaled him the tales of his mischievous feats.

If there was anything Tommy did, it was sucking up his family’s habits like a sponge. Especially the bad ones, like the swearing problem almost everyone had except Bad. Yet again, he soaked up the idea and let it envelop him like a butterfly’s chrysalis. He clung onto that one word with the same fervor that he used to cling to the tiled castle roof. 

_Chaos, huh_?

Well if it was chaos they would respect, then it was chaos they would get. Tommy had a brilliant plan, just like all of his plans. If he wanted to join his family on bounty hunts, then he had to prove himself. To him, the answer was obvious: _crime_.

Tommy gulped and gently let go of the handhold he was grasping and leapt onto the nearby parapets of a tower. He winced as he noticed that the ledge was thinner than his feet and quickly leapt onto another ledge. He tried not to think of the possibility of either falling down from the high castle towers or being caught by the guards that patrolled the ground below. After all, he was a rather large person with shimmering blond hair and a bright red shirt jumping across the castle roofs in broad daylight. Maybe his plan wasn’t as fantastic as he dreamt it was.

To his own relief, Tommy managed to finally reach the main castle roof. This section was precariously steep and made out of glass window panes that made his steps slippery and unstable. He slowly crept along the spine of the roof when he heard the sound of footsteps coming closer. Tommy glanced nervously at the incoming guard who walked along the walls below, unaware of the tall child prancing on the glass rooftops.

In his panic, his foot began to slip. The rest of his body followed, almost falling directly onto the incoming guard. Right before he reached the edge, he grabbed a stone rib that protruded from the smooth glass. His legs dangled off the edge of the roof, in full view of the guard walking by. He could do nothing but freeze and pray that the guard did not look up.

To Tommy’s immense luck, the unobservant guard passed straight below the child half hanging off the roof and entered back into a castle tower. Immediately, he unfroze and slowly climbed back onto the spine of the roof and desperately clung onto any handholds with pale, shaking hands.

He couldn’t do this. He shouldn’t have snuck past palace guards and climbed onto the castle roofs just to go on stupid bounty hunts with his family. What would it matter, if he proved himself? _What if they get mad_? Doubts swirled in his head, blocking any coherent thoughts. He was about turn back and take all of those tower jumps just to get back down when he finally took the chance to look up and-

_Wow_.

He was too focused on his risky adventure and stared too much at the ground below from fear of falling that he never took the chance to actually look around. From the tall towers of the castle, Tommy towered above and could see the span of the entire kingdom. He could even see past the castle walls and to the forest that reached the horizon. His heart ached as he remembered being left behind. Bitterness rose up in his throat, chasing the doubts away. 

He was calm and his hands stopped shaking. _One day_ , Tommy thought. _I want a castle just like this one so I could see this view everyday_. He looked down at the roof and saw the glass panels, his own reflection looking back at him. Tommy saw his messy golden hair that partially covered his blue eyes. The bandaid on the bridge of his nose only covered some of his scratches, and a small scar marked the bottom of his right eye. The fear and surrender in his eyes changed into bright, burning determination.

_One day, I will prove to them that I am good enough to be a bounty hunter and go into the forest like them, and that day is today_!

With a care and precision that Tommy rarely showed, he twisted the bolts that held the frames of a glass panel together, slowly raising it with great concentration. He wasn’t the strongest person, but no one would ever hear that from him. With the glass no longer filtering his vision, he could see his prizes in sharp, shiny detail. 

Resting on a pedestal were two music discs. Their centers were each a different color. One was a bright green while the other was violet and white stripes. He had long forgotten about the history behind the discs, but out of all the other trinkets and trophies displayed in the room, the discs was what drew him in the most.

Tommy looked back up to the roof and went to the stone decoration that he was hanging onto earlier, this time with a much more careful and controlled descent. He grabbed the rope that he carried in his bag and tied it around the protrusion, the knots and patterns ingrained in his brain from the many lessons from Fundy. If this thin stone rib could hold Tommy’s weight once, it could do it again. At least, that’s what he hoped.

Going back to the empty space in the roof, Tommy began to let go of the rope, letting it descend into the room and hover just above the floor. The room was empty of guards, a fact that relieved him even though he already knew there wouldn't be any. The objects inside were garbage compared to the relics and crown that were heavily guarded in the vault of the castle. Barely anyone cared or even knew about the existence of this room. Tommy wanted to prove himself, not get killed immediately. Even thinking about stealing any ancient relics or the crown itself would be stupid. _And I’m smart, obviously_. 

Tommy swiftly descended the rope with hands that were callused from Skeppy’s training courses. With a silence that defied his size, he pranced around the ground towards the pedestal. After checking for disguised wires or pressure plates, he wrapped the two discs in an old blanket and slipped the package into the bag he carried on his back. 

He didn’t bother taking any other items as the rest either had the same or less value than the discs. Everything there was trivial or worthless, like the collection of six plush toys. _Why do they even keep this stuff around?_ Two of the plushies were burnt and Tommy couldn’t imagine what anyone would want with a gilded potato. 

After making sure the discs were secure, he began to clamber back up the rope. He cheered silently inside his own mind, ecstatic that he managed well so far in completing his goal. He was _so close_. He could _see them_ in his mind. Tommy couldn't wait to brag and shove it in their faces that he managed to steal from the castle, the hive of endless guards and home of the powerful princes themselves. Despite the scolding he would inevitably receive, he was certain he would be allowed to join the bounty hunts. He would no longer dread the bonfires after dark. 

The bounty hunters would always reminisce over the fire the chaos they had created in the past, and now Tommy had his own story to tell. It was as if he was deep in a mine and could finally see the sunlight streaming in from the surface. He felt so giddy as all of the pieces were falling into place, just as he prepared. _I can do this, I’m amazing_!

Tommy wasn’t prepared for the creak of the large wooden door of the chamber. There stood a man robed in green, his tired eyes locked on the boy climbing the rope. His mouth, framed by the stubble of several days, opened in surprise as he stared at the blond boy. Tommy felt the blood drain from his face as he hung in the air, too terrified to make a move. 

He was so screwed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: We went back to add more paragraph breaks because _Oh my god_ it looks like a nightmare on mobile we are so sorry.


	3. Brothers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Tubbo, it’s dangerous out there,” Dream said. His forehead was scrunched in worry. The burned skin was thicker and didn’t fold as easily. Most of his left eyebrow had been burned away, never to return. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

The lake’s waves lapped lazily onto the shore. Weak as they were, they made a faint sound. Slow. Steady. Relaxed. It was as if the water’s beating heart was calm. A boy stood in the shallow water, his trousers pulled up to his knees and his bare feet immersed in the soft mud of the bank. He watched the edge of the lake. He couldn’t see it, but there was a boat hidden by his brother inside the bushes on the far shore. Hopefully, his big brother would be coming back today. 

The boy on the shore pulled his feet out of the mud, his trousers left up to let his legs dry in the bright sunlight. He grabbed a sack off of the ground and started walking towards the opposite shore of the island. The ground was rough. Thick grasses hid jagged, black stones and shallow holes, but the boy knew where all of the rocks and holes were. Tripping over them and cutting his feet for most of his life had taught him that.

As he reached the top of a small hill, the wind caught his long, blond hair, making it fly in his face. He stopped walking to pull it from his eyes to get a better view. From the rise, he could see almost the entire island. Near the middle was his home, a small cabin surrounded by trees, and past that on a peninsula was a small hut for his fishing gear. He clicked his tongue. Yet another task he had to do today. 

He reached his destination on the far shore, smiling as the buzzing noises emanating from flowering bushes reached his ears. It was time to work.

Grabbing a rusty smoker and a flint and steel out of his sack, the boy started looking for dried leaves and pine needles. He stuffed the ones he found into the smoker while he created sparks effortlessly with his tools. His fingers knew exactly what to do. 

The rest of his job was just as routine. Put on gloves. Slip on the comically large boots and pull the drawstrings tight. Open the crudely made beehive. Smoke out the bees. Pull out the frames. Use the large wooden bowl to collect the honeycomb. Slide the frame back and put the lid back on. Put out the flames in the smoker, or else his brother would yell at him when he got home. He was done, and the sun had barely moved more than the width of two of his fingers. 

As he carried the bowl of honeycomb back to his small house, he did his best to resist the temptation to plunge his fingers into it. The amber honey oozed out of the waxy comb and glistened in the sunlight. It reminded him of the gold coins his brother kept stashed under a rock near their home. The stash he wasn’t supposed to know about. 

His brother was paranoid, but the boy didn’t know exactly why. 

The ground in the shadow of the house was cool. The brick foundation was weathered and cracking in some places. The wood of the walls and roof was newer. The boy recalled a faint memory of this place, one of his earliest memories. It had been dark, but the moon provided enough life for him to see the silhouette of the house. Back then, the roof hadn’t been repaired yet and the glass panes in the windows were shattered. He remembered clinging to his older brother, terrified of the ominous sounds that spawned in the night. He remembered his brother standing over him like a turtle’s shell to protect him. 

There had been many nights like that. There were terrors in the night where the undead and strange monsters stalked you in the void like the dark. Only the moon and stars cared to watch humanity’s struggle and even they seemed to mock them from the heavens. The boy had spent many nights watching the sky. He liked how it changed as the seasons lived and died. But for all the rhythm of the world, one night felt out of place. In addition to the bright moon and spring constellations, on one night of each year, orbs of glowing light drifted up from a point on the horizon. It happened on the night of his birthday. 

It had been twelve of his birthdays since they came to the island. It had been almost barren except for the young saplings surrounding the dilapidated shelter, a sharp contrast to the now flourishing land making way for the brick house he called home. Slowly but surely, the pair had carefully cultivated their tiny portion of the world. They made the dusty rock in the middle of a puddle into a sparkling jewel. 

He opened the heavy oak door with his shoulder. Setting the bowl on the table, he turned to grab empty glass bottles off of a shelf. He had cleaned them yesterday and they shined like the bubbles the soap made when he bathed. He drained the honey out of the comb and waited patiently as it dripped into the bottle. 

The third bottle was almost filled when the boy heard the familiar sound of leaves crunching outside. His brother was back! The little brother ran to the door, almost tripping over his own feet in the process. He swung open the door. 

“Dream!” he exclaimed. His brother stood slumped in the doorway. 

“Hey, Tubbo,” Dream said weakly. Underneath his large green cloak, he clutched his side in pain. He was wearing his mask, which covered his forehead, eyes, and most of his nose. His mouth was exposed, and it stretched in a contorted grin. 

“Tubbo, can you-,” Dream began. 

“Oh spirits, sorry!” Tubbo rushed forward, putting his shoulder under his older brother’s arm to support him. Together, they stumbled to the bed in the corner. Dream sat down in an odd position, careful not to agitate his wound. The bleeding was slow and Tubbo thanked the spirits for that. He was always scared of what would happen should his brother not get back to him in time. Dream fiddled with the clasp of his cloak but was unable to open it with one hand; his other hand still clutching his side. Tubbo undid the clasp and hung the cloak over a chair. He remembered years ago when the garment was a pristine bright green. Now it was faded from time and marred by dirt and bloodstains. 

Dream groaned. He was taking off his bloodied shirt. Something had clawed through it and gotten to the skin beneath. The scrape was uneven and the threads of the fabric were mingled with the thin strips of torn flesh. Dream gritted his teeth as he pulled the strings out one by one. His fingers were less than delicate, and his mask obscured his vision. The pain from his untidy work made him flinch and his breathing quickened. He stopped trying to clean the wound and started frantically grabbing the mask covering the top half of his face. His hand left red stains on the white material as he tried to yank it off. 

“Dream,” said Tubbo softly. He gently grabbed his brother’s bloodied hand and slipped him a glass of water. He untied the green ribbons keeping the mask in place. It came off, revealing his eyes, defined tan lines, and a large burn covering one of his eyes and most of his forehead. Dream drank the water, wincing as Tubbo finished cleaning the wound. 

“What happened this time?” asked Tubbo. 

Dream chuckled. “You know, they say people tell better stories when they aren’t dying, so why don’t you heal me first, and _then_ I’ll tell you.” 

Tubbo rolled his eyes. Dream wouldn’t die from this injury, with or without Tubbo’s help. Bracing himself, he forced all worries and concerns out of his mind and focused on a different thought. He smiled, letting their happiest memories together flood his mind. As if it were a physical expression of his joy, Tubbo’s long blond hair began to glow. It was faint at first, but as he concentrated, a steady golden light emanated from his head. It grew brighter still as he started humming. He didn’t know what the song was called or what the lyrics were, but the melody was ingrained in his mind like the sun in the noon sky. Tubbo pressed his hand on his brother’s side, close to the wound but not touching it. 

The golden light spread from his fingertips, radiating out like the petals of a flower. When it reached the angry, red bruises on Dream’s torso, they turned purple, then green, and then finally faded away like ghosts. The light continued to streak across his muscled body. Unlike the bruises and minor scratches, the wound on his side took longer to heal. The ripped pieces of skin were animated by threads of golden light and stitched back into their original position, leaving only a pink scar and dried blood when it was finished.

Dream breathed a sigh of relief as the pain ceased. With the power still coursing through his body, his strength was restored. His shoulders relaxed and the dark circles under his eyes faded. Green eyes flashed golden for a split second before fading away. Tubbo stopped humming and brought his thoughts out of the song. 

Dream smiled. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” said Tubbo. He smiled tiredly. Healing always made him a little sleepy, especially after a day of constant work and walking. Dream leapt off the bed and began walking to the door.

“I’m going to get my stuff out of the boat, come help me?” Dream asked looking back at his younger brother. 

“Sure.” Tubbo followed him out of the house. He was quite a ways shorter than his older brother; his eyeline only reached to Dream’s freckled shoulders. The sun was setting. He squinted his eyes. The lake’s surface was glassy and reflected the sunlight well. 

The little boat was drifting close to the water. Dream usually pulled it up on the shore, but he hadn’t this time because of his injury. Tubbo walked into the water and helped Dream heave the wooden boat onto the soft land. 

“Can you grab my axe?” asked Dream. 

“Yeah, hold on.” Tubbo reached into the boat to grab the long-handled weapon. It shimmered a faint purple color. The head of the axe was made of a smooth diamond surface with a bluish hue. Inscribed on the handle just below it were runes, enchantments that made the blade sharper and the whole weapon tougher. Tubbo felt powerful just holding it. 

“Tubbo, come on!” said Dream. His bare arms were laden with his equipment and a suspiciously full bag. “Let’s eat, I’m hungry!”

Okay, but I didn’t catch any fish today so there isn’t much good food left,” said Tubbo. 

Dream smiled. “That’s okay, I have a surprise.”

“What is it?” asked Tubbo, using a certain tone of voice and a cute face that he knew always got information out of his big brother. 

“Bring my axe inside and I’ll tell you.” He started walking back to the house. 

Tubbo didn’t strain to carry the axe like he used to. He had gotten used to the weight as he grew older, but he still felt like a child when Dream treated him like that. 

“Dream, can’t you just tell me?”

“I could, but where’s the fun in that?”

“Can I guess?”

“If you want to,” Dream said. Tubbo bit his lip in thought. _It would have to be food, and he brought back more than normal… Is it bread from the market? No, that wouldn’t be surprising, he’s done that before. Fresh fruit, maybe_? 

“Is it apples?”

“No.”

“Those little red berries that stain your fingers for days?”

“No, I’m _never_ buying those again,” Dream said with disgust. Tubbo laughed. Their one tablecloth still bore the crimson stains from the berries he had brought home two years ago. 

“Can’t you just tell me?” 

“Hmm, if you keep asking I’ll make you clean it too.” Tubbo looked down at the axe. Mud was caked into the corners under the head. The handle was grimey and the diamond itself had streaks of something red. 

“I always do the cleaning,” Tubbo complained, “And the gathering, and the beekeeping, and the fishing.. and-” They were almost at the door and Dream stopped abruptly.

“And I’m the one who risks his life so you can live here comfortably,” he said, his voice sharp. He turned his head to face his younger brother, his eyes shining unnaturally in the evening light. The orange sun made his burns more pronounced, the twisted and marred skin looked more red. More menacing. Dream entered the house, leaving Tubbo to stand outside for a minute or so. 

Tubbo’s back was warm from the setting sun when he went into the house. He bit his lip and looked down, his hands trembling with the axe in his hands. Dream was sitting at the table, facing away from the door, his head in his hands. Tubbo walked quietly to a cupboard, grabbing a rag. He sat down at the table with Dream but didn’t dare to look at his face. He started scrubbing the axe.

“Tubbo, I’m sorry,” said Dream. 

“Dream, it’s okay. I shouldn’t be complaining, I just-”

“No, Tubbo, I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry.” Dream looked apologetically at Tubbo, who still wouldn’t meet his eyes. 

“I just get so bored,” Tubbo said, “Will you ever let me go with you?”

Dream breathed deeply. “One day I will, Tubbs.”

“But that’s what you always say every time I ask,” said Tubbo. He looked up timidly. “Why won’t you let me leave?

“Tubbo, it’s dangerous out there,” Dream said. His forehead was scrunched in worry. The burned skin was thicker and didn’t fold as easily. Most of his left eyebrow had been burned away, never to return. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“But I’m almost sixteen! Please, I don’t want to do anything dangerous, I just want to go see the giant bees!” Tubbo put the rag down and stopped scrubbing the axe. With all of his courage, he looked into his elder brother’s intimidating eyes. 

Dream chuckled. “The _what_?”

Tubbo’s face grew pink. “Th-the giant glowing bees that umm… they’re always there on the night of my birthday…” 

“Tubbo, those aren’t giant bees,” Dream said, trying not to laugh. 

“Have you seen them up close? How do you know they’re not?”

“No, I haven’t seen them up close, but I know they aren’t giant glowing bees. Why would there be bees like that on only one night of the year?”

“I don’t know! I thought it was a migration or something… like the birds in the spring and autumn…” Tubbo had spent hours watching geese fly above the lake every year, just as he always got up in the dead of night to see the bulbous lights in the sky.

“Tubbo, you should know bees don’t migrate, they have hives!” Dream gestured in the direction of Tubbo’s beehives on the opposite shore. 

“Yeah, I guess. But it could still be some sort of enchantment or spirit-y thing! Don’t you always say spirits are more powerful at night and at certain times of the year?”

“That’s true, but it’s not clockwork. Not even the snow spirits come on the same day every year. Spirits are too unpredictable.”

“If we can’t predict them, then why can’t they come out once every year?” 

“I don’t follow…”

“Oh, umm… so if spirits as a whole are unpredictable, who’s to say if some are and some aren’t?” Tubbo paused, trying to think of a better way to explain it. “Like the two birds living in the peach tree. The bigger one is always on this one specific branch at noon, but the small one is sometimes there and sometimes not. So the birds as a whole are unpredictable but individually they’re different. Do you get what I’m saying?” His lips started quivering as he finished rambling. _Is this going to work_?

“Surprisingly, yes. Wow, I’m impressed. Where do these glowing bees come from anyway?” Tubbo’s hands started shaking. He was tapping his foot on the rough floor. 

“I don’t know how far it is, but it’s somewhere out in the east, on the side of the lakes with the cliffs. Can we go this year? Please? For my birthday?” He was talking fast, the momentum of his excitement propelling him forward. 

“No.” It was a simple word, but a destructive one. 

“You’re _never_ going to let me leave, are you. I’m going to be eighty years old and alone on this island and you’re still going to be dragging your ninety-five year old a-” Tubbo’s voice was shrill as he complained. 

“We’ve had this conversation before Tubbo. I’ll let you come with me when you’re eighteen.” Dream sighed. The agreement was years old and was the result of Tubbo’s consistent pestering and pleading that had finally broken him. 

“I know, Dream, but that’s two years from now!” 

“It’s a better wait time than never, but if you prefer that-”

“Fine, alright then! Two years is fine. Two years is good.” Tubbo decided to stop complaining. The existing deal was hard-fought and hard-won. There was no chance Dream would concede more time. 

“Now before I forget, I got you these.” Dream pulled out of his leather bag a package wrapped in a checkered cloth and slid it over the table’s rough surface. He watched with keen interest as Tubbo unwrapped it. 

“Cookies!” Tubbo exclaimed. Dream smiled. The tension was resolved by sweet, chocolatey magic. For now. 

“Don’t worry, this isn’t your only birthday present. Speaking of, what do you want?”

“I don’t know. Maybe something I can do after I’m done with all my chores? You can only stare at the water for so long, you know.” 

“Hmm. I passed by an apiary-”

“What’s that?”

“A beekeeping place. Think our hives, just more of them.”

“That’s so cool!”

“Yeah, it is. Anyways, they had boxes like ours and they painted them all different colors and patterns. Do you want me to get some paint for you?”

Tubbo paused. Dream was going to leave again? So soon after he got back and right before Tubbo’s birthday? He wanted those paints, but the cost was time with his brother, a currency he only had a little of. 

A hand gently gripped his own, startling him out of his thoughts. He looked up and saw Dream’s encouraging smile and his eyes were apologetic. _He’s sorry_. Tubbo sighed and smiled in return. His brother wanted to make it up to him, and once he set his mind to something, there was little Tubbo could do.

“Sure! That sounds awesome!” Forcing a dazzling smile, he squeezed Dream’s hands in reassurance, and Dream beamed.

“Sounds like a plan, then. Let’s eat now, I’m starving.”

“Right, me too.”

Dinner was going to be simple, as it usually was. Dream grabbed a jar of peaches preserved in honey from the shelf. Tubbo brought out the pot to make a soup of dried meat and potatoes. The bread in the cupboard was almost stale, but it was still edible. 

Tubbo sat by the fireplace, a flint and steel in his hands. He was trying to light the tinder situated under several logs. Much to his frustration, the flint and steel refused to cooperate. Sparks were flying everywhere but where he wanted. 

“ _Tubbo_!” Dream’s voice boomed from behind him. Dream had gone out to get water from the rain barrels but was now standing in the doorway and making large strides towards him. “Be careful! Don’t burn the house down.” His voice sounded acidic and burned away at his gut. Tubbo shrank back. 

He bit his lip. There was nothing he could do to stop the sparks from flying. _But how will I start the fire? Doesn’t he want to eat_?

Dream put down the bucket of water and rifled through his bag. He sat down next to Tubbo, a small box in his hand. Matches. 

The fire was lit but was kept small and tamed. Dinner was cooked and eaten in silence. The brothers stacked the dishes on the table. Tubbo would wash them in the morning while his brother prepared to leave. Dream put the fire out before getting in bed. 

Tubbo laid on his back, staring in the direction of the ceiling but not quite looking at it. He was ashamed to admit that it was odd to have another weight on the bed. He had spent so many nights alone, waiting for his brother to come back. Over the years, he became accustomed to an empty house as Dream left for longer periods of time more often. 

He shifted around in bed, trying to not wake Dream up. His mind refusing to let him sleep. The bed was warmer with his brother by his side, warmer than it had ever been for days. But even still, Tubbo couldn’t help but keep a small distance between them. It was always a good day when Dream came back, but today, Tubbo couldn’t help but be… scared of him. The burns that Tubbo had always seen on his face never phased him before, but they seemed to stand out more in a menacing way. It wasn't just the burns that scared him, Tubbo realized, but Dream himself. 

_No! Don’t think like that_. Dream was his one and only brother, the only person he knew and loved. They had been together for so many years, just them against the world. He would be damned if he would let anything get in between them. He shouldn’t have been scared of his brother. It was just a bad day, one day standing against hundreds of wonderful ones.

With that thought in mind, Tubbo closed the gap between them and hugged his brother tight. He could feel Dream wrap his arms around him, pulling him closer. All of the tension and stress melted away from their bodies as they melted against each other. All Tubbo could feel was warmth.

He missed this. He missed being with his brother so much. Tubbo may have been bored by his repetitive life and being all alone, but being together seemed to erase that displeasure. 

He had always fallen asleep quickly, hoping his dreams would take him away from his mundane life. But tonight, questions screamed in his head like phantoms in the night. 

_Why won’t he let me leave?_

_Because he wants to protect me. The outside world is dangerous._

_Why did he get so mad when I complained?_

_Because he’s tired, and so am I._

_Why was he so afraid of the sparks?_

_I’ve seen the burns on his body. It’s not my place to ask him._

__

__

_Does he really love me?_

_Of course he does. And I love him. We’re brothers._

_… Aren’t we_?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tubbo and Dream finally entered the scene! We wanted to post this chapter to have an update one week ahead of schedule but it had to put off. So we're posting it today along with two other updates to our other fics! Go check them out!
> 
> The next update will still be next Saturday so look forward to that!
> 
> Written by NKhaotic and Waxflowerwoes. Come and yell at us Tumblr @NKhaotic!


	4. Chase

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He covered his mouth and nose to prevent himself from breathing in the ash and dust from the destruction. The destruction he caused. The destruction that had dropped a building on his king. 
> 
> _Did I just kill the king?!_

The first rule of committing a crime was to not get caught. The second rule was to always look awesome while doing said crime. There were definitely more rules, but they were quickly discarded and forgotten. To Tommy, those two were the only rules that mattered. Unfortunately, he had a penchant for breaking the rules.

Below him, the man at the door stared straight at Tommy, who was frozen still. There went the rules.

“Did you have to rush Phil, we come here at _least_ once a week. Being a minute late won’t kill anyone.”

Voices appeared behind the man, and to his dismay, the doorway opened even further to allow two new strangers to enter the room. They were unaware of the thief hanging from the ceiling, and he took that as his cue to desperately climb the rope, almost flying upwards. He needed to leave. Now.

“Phil are you okay- is that a child hanging from our ceiling?”

It was impossible for him to climb any faster, but he certainly grew more frightened as he heard a voice call him out and could feel more eyes digging into his back. Finally, he was at the roof and quickly grabbed the ledge before pulling himself up. Once again standing on the roof, he quickly began to pull the rope back up to prevent anyone from following.

“Don’t worry Techno, I got this”

Tommy froze. _Techno._ He knew that name. _Everybody_ knew that name. Technoblade, the most renowned warrior, the man who ended the hunger crises years ago, and most importantly, _one of the princes of the kingdom_. 

He looked down past the glass roof and saw a brief glimpse of the two strangers, one broad, wearing a rich red cape, and another, smaller and more fashionable, with messy hair slipping past a knitted hat. Before he could see more, his vision was blocked with the image of the first man _actually_ _flying_ directly towards him.

Jerking backward from shock and pure instinct, Tommy fell on his back right as the man soared through the open windowpane and floated above him. Behind the man was a pair of glittering wings that extended far and wide, almost blocking the sun behind him.

Wings. _Of course._

He cursed himself for not seeing it sooner. While Prince Technoblade was famous for his deeds and royal status, even he was beaten in reputation by the king himself. Philza, ruler of the Kingdom of Lantis. He was a hero in his own right.

King Philza, who saved the kingdom from a civil war. King Philza, the only man in living memory to survive the possession of a phantom. King Philza, beloved by his people. He was a legend, and Tommy could see him with his own two eyes. 

“Well mate, I wasn’t expecting to see such a young thief dangling from the roof,” Philza said with a small smile as he floated just above the rooftop.

Tommy scoffed, “Well, I wasn’t expecting His Majesty to care about such worthless junk”. He smirked, trying to pretend he was confident while dying on the inside. He may have been taller than the king, but knocked down like this he felt powerless. What the great king lacked in height, he made up for in reputation and power. 

“If it’s so worthless, then why are you stealing it?” The king asked. Tommy bit his lip. Trying to stand proved difficult, as he didn’t want to take his eyes off the king and the glass was hard to get a footing on. 

“Well, you got me. I would raise my hands but I might fall to my death.” He carefully stood up, finally getting a stable foothold on the glass roof. Every slow movement of his was watched under the king’s piercing gaze.

“You know you’re not getting away,” Philza said. His voice was calm, unusual for the victim of a robbery. 

Almost as if waiting for the cue, the bells in the towers began to sway back and forth, making loud clanging noises that made Tommy wince. “Those bells are an alarm for the palace guards. They will be stationed in every area and exit, ready to catch you.”

Tommy paled and stepped backward, once again almost slipping on the glass roof. “I wouldn’t try to jump the rooftops either,” the man nodded to the ground. “That’s a nasty fall and you wouldn’t even begin to outrun me.”

Deep inside, he knew the king was right. Tommy was too terrified to attempt hopping over the roofs again and doing so would be an easy catch for Philza. That left only one option.

“So, if you want to get out of this safely, I suggest you-” Before the king could finish, Tommy slipped down the glass roof and began to slide down like a drop of water in a storm. Turning his head, he got a quick glimpse of Philza looking at him in shock before immediately diving after, his wings spread open. He looked ahead and saw the edge of the roof coming closer, but this time he was ready.

Right before he fell off the roof, he grabbed the same stone decoration that saved him before, stopping his fall. King Philza sped right past, unable to slow down in time. While he was looping back around, Tommy made a short leap from the roof onto the walls where the guard from before was patrolling. He would rather take on a bunch of guards on the ground than a king in the skies.

Quickly ducking into a tower to avoid the open sky, he pressed himself against the wall as he heard the pounding footsteps of numerous armored guards running about. Carefully looking out of a window, his dread grew as he saw guards running around, swarming the area below.

They were everywhere, some even looking up and pointing at the king who flew in circles in the sky. Whipping his head, he saw almost every possible exit path covered by at least one guard. All of them, save one. 

The Southwest wing clearly stood out among the rest of the palace. Not only because it was desolate and empty of guards, but because the wing itself was half gone. What should have been an entire section of walls and towers were now only rubble and burnt down frames of wood. The ashy remains contrasted terribly against the pristine and detailed architecture of the castle. 

From the corner of his mind, Tommy recalled the stories of how a large fire ravaged the capital city years ago, including the castle. He didn’t know why this part of the burnt remains wasn’t rebuilt like the rest of the city, but rumors had it that the king refused to let any construction crews, or anyone for that matter, even touch the southwest wing. That meant one very good thing for him.

There would be no guards to stop Tommy.

The heavy footsteps grew louder, closing around Tommy from above and below. Without a chance to hesitate, he hopped out of the window and onto the ledge outside. In a continuous pattern, the boy switched between leaping across roofs and the walls to avoid the guards and hopping into different crevices or windows to hide away from the king. It was almost a miracle that Tommy finally managed to reach the southwest wing and quickly slip through a window and into a hallway just barely standing despite the damage.

Opposed to the rushing winds and the adrenaline he felt when running for his life, the calm and silence of the hallway stood still and enveloped him. He heard nothing but his beating heart and could see dust slowly falling onto the rubble and burnt wood.

He stepped forwards, about to run again when his foot broke through the cracked floorboard, almost bringing Tommy down to the dusty floor. Catching himself at the last moment, he pulled his foot out and frowned at the charred and fragile floor. He decided to take his time and traversed through the hallway with much more care than normal. 

He went through numerous hallways and doors, hoping that each door he passed through would lead to an exit. He glanced to the side, and pushed through a charred and splintered door into a room, gasping as he realized that half the floor was gone. Tommy stumbled upon a room that was both in the worst condition yet most preserved.

Fortunately, the boy entered from the safe side that still contained sturdy floorboards and even lumps recognizable as once being furniture. Despite the dusty cradles and discarded books on the floor, his half of the room was almost an eerily perfect picture of a nursery room. The perfect, storybook image sharply contrasted the other half of the room that was filled with nothing but blackened beams of wood and stone from a collapsed roof and holes among the walls where sunlight filtered through.

He didn’t know why, but seeing the old yet pristine condition of the small cribs and toys littered about the destruction struck a chord inside Tommy. It seemed familiar. He blinked once more at the room before turning away to look for another way out. There was nothing in there for him and he had yet to find a way out in the maze of burned ruins.

Tommy found himself on the second floor, anxiously biting his lip as he occasionally looked through cracks in the ruined walls. From there Tommy could see the moving figure of the king flying in circles in the open sky while guards marched on the ground. While there were no guards inside the southwest wing, there certainly were some guarding the outside wall.

The first floor was almost bare and would easily expose him to the outside world no matter where he was. Staying on the upper floors also had no benefit as Philza had a large chance of spotting him through the gaping wounds of the building. From the way he saw the king glance occasionally towards the southwest wing, he felt like the king suspected where he went. That left the second floor being the safest, but it also left no escape for Tommy.

If he could only get to ground level without being instantly caught, he would be able to book it to his horse that he hid in the outskirts and flee.

Looking around, Tommy found his savior in the form of a bush, more specifically a particular berry bush with fruit like drops of blood. He briefly remembered Ponk, one of the bounty hunters in his ragtag family, mentioning how the formation of leaves and branches of the bush was enough to cushion a fall from tall heights, with the unfortunate consequence of scratches all over one’s body. If he were to suddenly jump, he could get out and run before the guards could even react. However, the bush was a bit of a distance away from the castle walls, and despite his enormous ego, he doubted if he could make the jump. 

The decision was made for him when he heard the sound of wings flapping in the air. Whirling around, he could see the king standing behind him with a small frown and a look in his eyes he couldn’t decipher.

“You aren’t supposed to be here. No one is,” The king said, almost whispering. He looked at Tommy, his eyes glassy. He seemed to be looking past him. Instead of questioning his actions, he took advantage of Philza’s lack of focus and began to sprint away to an open gap in the wall. He heard footsteps behind and knew he was being chased.

With the king on his trail, any attempts to jump would lead to him being caught mid-air and most likely dragged to prison. So Tommy did the only thing he could think of and shoved a pillar as he ran, easily cracking it in half due to it’s burnt status and rotting wood. Almost immediately, the beams and rubble it supported all came crashing down behind him, separating him and the king even as he continued to run. 

With no chance to back out, Tommy jumped into the crisp air and shielded his face with his arms, closing his eyes. Counting the seconds in his mind, it seemed like an eternity in the air compared to the few moments he had until he came crashing down onto the bush with almost perfect accuracy. He quickly shook out of his dazed state and hopped upwards before whooping, “I did it! I’m so good! _I’m so good_!”

His celebration, however, was interrupted by a large crack. He turned around just in time to see one pillar crack, then two, then a whole row of pillars all crumbling, bringing down with it almost all of the southwest wing. Tommy could only watch as the already dilapidated wing crumbled inward, sending billowing clouds of dust into the air. Stories of empty frames and ruins were reduced to mere piles of rubble before his very eyes. He covered his mouth and nose to prevent himself from breathing in the ash and dust from the destruction. The destruction he caused. The destruction that had dropped a building on his king. 

_Did I just kill the king?!_ Tommy panicked. This was supposed to be a robbery, not an assassination! The dust was slow to settle, but a dark figure rose from the rubble and clouds of dust. He was relieved to see Philza still alive but gulped when he saw the king staring straight at him.

With the sun behind his back and the far distance between them, Tommy couldn’t quite see the king’s expression, but he could tell it wasn’t good. He turned around and ran, leaving the ruins of the southwest wing with guards chasing close behind.

He dashed to his horse that he had hidden near the walls. His trusty steed was a gift to him from Sapnap and George, one of the many horses who have been trained to navigate and traverse the forest terrain. It was to be Tommy’s steed when he would become a bounty hunter, and since that was supposed to be inevitable, no one had batted an eye when he had taken him for a ride. 

His horse was named PogChamp, a majestic name for a majestic horse. Mounting his steed and speeding off, he could say without a doubt that his horse was the best. However, the royal cavalry was apparently also the best. From behind, he could hear the sounds of hooves pounding against the ground as numerous guards pursued him.

Daring to look back, Tommy saw dozens of guards literally on his tail, and his eyes grew wide. What would have warranted this amount of guards-

_Oh yeah. The castle_. A few mere discs did not warrant a large portion of the guard to chase after him. But now he would be wanted for robbery, vandalism, _and_ an assassination attempt. _Great. This won’t complicate things at all._

Tommy was currently on-path towards the bounty hunter hangout, but on second thought, bringing a small army to the doorstep of his family wouldn’t be the brightest idea. The only other option he had was to lose the guards. His quest to prove his worth would be completely useless if he was caught after all. There was nowhere to run or hide in the town with open streets and dead-ends such an urbanized place entailed. There was only one other way.

No one entered the forest, not if they had the choice. The forest was massive, dark, and dangerous. Spirits ran wild and the terrain was unpredictable, promising death to any unprepared soul who tempted fate. Even people hunting for meat or gathering wood only touched the very outskirts. Only people who had a reason to run or hide went into the forest, and in turn, so did the very bounty hunters who hunted them.

However, at this very moment, Tommy was both a bounty hunter and someone on the run. The forest was _perfect_ for him. He ignored the small voices saying in his head complaining that he had never stepped foot into the forest, and he refused to acknowledge the ones that said he wasn’t a bounty hunter yet.

Making a sharp turn, he made a bee-line towards the forest. Quickly storming past the outskirts, he could hear the sounds of horses become quieter behind, but not completely silent. About half of the guards had split off, stopping at the edge of the forest with a shout, but the remaining ones continued to keep chase. Tommy cursed under his breath, his hopes of getting rid of all of the guards immediately dashed.

Although he was personally unfamiliar with the forest, numerous lessons and maps have been ingrained into his head from his bounty hunter training, acting as a compass to guide his way. With PogChamp perfectly adapted to the terrain, the gap between Tommy and the guards gradually increased, but the chase still continued. This would have been easier had he known where he was going, but luckily for him, the guards seemed to also lack the experience of being in the thick forest. 

The debris of the forest floor disguised the uneven ground. Only when the third sudden drop almost made Tommy fall off his horse did he remember a certain lesson. In his mind’s eyes, a map was spread upon the table, a certain area was clearly circled and marked with bright red.

“No matter what Tommy, you should avoid this area here. This area is the mountainside and is filled with endless drops and rocky terrain. There is little to no chance for anyone to run here as it’s a guaranteed death warrant. There are no trees for cover, floods or avalanches are common, and there is almost no food. If the target does decide to go in there, it’s better off to let them die by themselves”. George had drilled that warning deep into his mind. 

The very area George mentioned was nearby. Through the thinning trees, Tommy could see the looming mountains and the deadly mountainside that had claimed so many lives. If he could go there, even the guards would never dare to continue chasing and would give up. Plus, imagine the looks on his family’s faces if he managed to pass and survive the supposed “death trap”. _Definitely bounty hunter material right here_.

With his decision made, he aimed straight towards the mountains. Almost immediately, the guards noticed the change in direction as well as the intended destination. Most of them halted, reigning in their horses as they watched the young boy break past the treeline and begin to ascend the mountains. With no trees for cover, the boy was in clear sight of the guards as he precariously guided PogChamp around deep drops and sharp, protruding rocks.

While they could see him, they had no hope to catch him as Tommy continued to ride into the distance and eventually become hidden with the numerous rocks that littered the area. The guards turned around and began the ride home, no longer able to continue the chase.

Tommy was elated to see the guards’ conflicted and angry faces, unable to continue their pursuit. He was currently in the midst of the mountainside among endless dangers, but even then, he couldn’t help but cheer loudly, whooping with his hands up. He was too caught up in his celebration that by the time he noticed he lost his sense of direction, it was too late. 

He was in the middle of nowhere, and only now did Tommy begin to realize his situation. Every step could lead to death, and there were no clear landmarks other than rocks, rocks, and more rocks. Looking up to the sky, he could see the sun beginning to set. Words echoed in his ears.

“And for whatever reason you find yourself in here, look to the sun and go-”, and the rest of George’s lecture became a blur in Tommy’s mind. He groaned in frustration as he tried to remember the last few directions but to no avail. Of all times for him to not pay attention, it was a lesson about a lethal area that he was currently in.

What could George have said? Go east? West? Even now, the four possible directions swirled around his mind and gave him a headache. This is why everything should just be described with a simple left or right, no matter what others said. 

Trying once more, he looked up to the setting sun and squinted. If the sun was setting in that direction, it must have been… west. But was that the right direction or not? Thinking even harder, he could only remember small snippets.

“Make sure to go-”

“-and no matter what, do not go the other way. If you do, you will find nothing but a deep drop into who knows what. Do _not_ go-”

At this point, Tommy yelled in frustration. He was only given more reminders of how important his decision was and how picking the wrong direction led to his literal death. It was as if life was purposely picking up his mistakes and rubbing them in his face as punishment for not listening.

Finally, the boy sighed and puffed up his chest. He would make the right choice. To do otherwise was unthinkable. _I’m the alpha male!_ So with a determined heart, Tommy chose to go left.

• ••

A few moments later, Tommy and PogChamp began to plummet into the ground below. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Saturday! We finally get back to Tommy's POV which ends in a bit of a cliffhanger... quite literally. Comment below or scream at us at Tumblr @NKhaotic about your ideas or theories! We would love to hear what you think because this is just the start of so much!


	5. Domesticity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _He remembered the times when he and his brother would spend every single moment together, just the two of them in their small home. Even if it had been a while since Dream stayed for more than a day, that was just more of a reason for Tubbo to treasure the time they had together. And there was no better way to spend the day with Dream than to make fun of said brother._

Before Tubbo even opened his eyes he could feel the cold. When he woke up, he could see the empty space in the bed beside him, not a dent left to even hint of his brother’s presence. For a moment he thought that the previous day was just a dream, a hallucination born of his longing. Just another day where Tubbo spent and ended the night alone. But if Dream did come home, that meant that his brother woke up and left without bothering to wake him up and say goodbye.

He didn’t know which was worse.

The warmth he thought he felt last night was now gone and replaced with resigned dread as he prepared himself for another day of work and waiting. His stomach grumbled with hunger. He rolled over in the bed, trying to convince himself to prepare some breakfast, maybe cook some...bacon? Tubbo froze and sniffed. The air was permeated with the scent of bacon, the savory smell slowly becoming the scent of burning. His confusion increased as he noticed angry muttering from the other side of the small home. 

“Shoot! Godammi-”

“Dream?” Tubbo interrupted. The grumbling immediately stopped. He hopped out of bed and went to the other room, now seeing his brother hunched over the fireplace, oven mitt and fork in hand. 

“Oh morning! I was just-” Dream began.

“You’re still here,” Tubbo once again interrupted Dream, but his brother didn’t seem to mind. In fact, his focus remained at the pan in front of him that contained bacon, or at least what should have been bacon. All that was left was sad, burnt remains reminiscent of charcoal.

“Of course I’m still here, who else would cook breakfast?” Dream joked before wincing at the pan. Tubbo shook his head and walked towards his brother before carefully taking the hot pan away from his hands and dumping what used to be bacon into the trash. 

“Well I would. I always cook breakfast when you’re not here. Seems like I’m better at it too.” Tubbo smirked when he saw Dream’s offended face. Taking new strips of bacon, he began to cook and tried to remain focused. He was still shocked that his brother was still there, still home and staying with him. 

He was certain that he left already, off to get the paints or do whatever he did outside that got him so injured. But no, his brother actually stayed and even attempted to make breakfast.

No. He shook his head. It shouldn’t be surprising. Dream was his brother after all, and it should have been normal for him to stay with Tubbo. He remembered the times when he and his brother would spend every single moment together, just the two of them in their small home. Even if it had been a while since Dream stayed for more than a day, that was just more of a reason for Tubbo to treasure the time they had together. And there was no better way to spend the day with Dream than to make fun of said brother.

"How did I survive years of your cooking?"

“I’m not that bad! It’s just… um. Fire is evil, okay? Has a vendetta against me I swear.” Dream muttered his excuses, making Tubbo laugh. It was Dream who taught Tubbo how to “cook” in the first place, but he assumed that the time spent cooking and experimenting at home was better practice than whatever makeshift campfire cooking his brother did outside. 

Soon enough, the new batch of bacon was ready and the two siblings spent the morning lazily chatting and eating. Dream gave updates and told dramatic stories of danger, the monsters and wild animals he masterfully escaped from, while Tubbo would recount the different work he did. 

Tubbo wished that he didn’t have to talk and could just listen. His own stories seemed bland and mundane compared to Dream’s tales. But then again, anything and everything sounded fantastical when said with his brother’s silver tongue. He felt awkward, bumbling through sentences as he tried to make his life more interesting. Despite the boring account of what Tubbo did every day, his brother would ask more questions and remain attentive to each and every word with a smile.

“So how is your ukulele practice going?” Dream asked. Tubbo’s train of thought was immediately forgotten as his eyes lit up. Slamming his hands on the table, he got out of his seat and began to sprint to the bed.

“Oh I’ve been getting so good, let me show you!” Tubbo shouted as he pulled out a wooden box from underneath the bed frame. From behind, he could hear Dream laughing and the soft clinking of plates as his brother cleaned the table. The thin case of his ukelele was still in pristine condition despite how much he had used it in the year since his last birthday. He walked back to the table, instrument in hand and a skip in his step. Dream had pulled the chairs closer to the window. That was where they always sat in the mornings that Dream was home for. It was good to be back to routine. As they sat down, Tubbo plucked on the strings, checking if they were in tune. 

“Well? Show me your mad skills, little man.” Dream teased Tubbo before leaning back and going silent, waiting for him to start. Tubbo didn’t need sheet music. He had already memorized every song and exercise in the few books his brother was able to find for him. Besides, it was hard for him to read. 

He started singing a lullaby, one that Dream had always sung for him when he was little. 

“Little bird, little bird,”

“Build your nest in my tree.” Dream joined in. 

“I swear I'll keep my word,”

“I swear you'll be happy,” they sang together. Dream was considerably offkey. Even after years of singing the same song, his voice was still rough and the notes he sang grated against the chords like gravel on exposed skin. 

Tubbo stopped strumming. 

“Why did you-” said Dream. 

“Whatever you do outside is  _ not  _ doing any favors for your voice,” said Tubbo, face deadpan and tone flat. Dream started laughing. 

“Oh, come on! It’s not that bad!” he said. 

“No, no. That was utterly awful.”

“You’re not much better!”

“That is  _ such  _ a lie and you know it.”

“Okay then, prove it.”

“Well, what do you want me to play?”

“I don’t know, something I’ve never heard before.”

Tubbo bit his lip. He loved improvising, he just hoped this time it would sound good. 

“Dreammmmmm is a terrible cook. I can cook better and he was so shook.” Tubbo sang as he repeatedly strummed a few chords. Dream began to laugh loudly beside him, being reduced to wheezing like a kettle on the floor. 

“His singing voice is very bad. But mine is not and I am glad.” Tubbo plucked the last chord. At this point, Dream’s wheezes became so harsh and high pitched that Tubbo worried for his brother’s lungs. After a long moment of catching his breath, Dream finally mustered enough control to look at his younger brother with an offended gasp.

“ _ What?!  _ Why you-” Not bothering to finish his sentence, Dream pounced Tubbo and brought him  _ gently  _ to the ground before brushing his fingers to his younger brother’s side. Tubbo’s eyes widened. He pushed his instrument aside, careful to save it from the roughhousing. 

“Wait, Dream we can talk about this alright please-” Tubbo’s plea was interrupted as his brother began to tickle his sides. He shrieked and tried to kick Dream as he laughed uncontrollably. Tears began to well up his eyes.

“Dream, Dream stop. Actually stop or I will bust your kneecaps.” Tubbo warned his brother between his screaming. Dream only laughed harder.

“Oooh what a threat! Is Big Crime going to come and get me?” He cooed at Tubbo, teasing him with the old nickname before wheezing again. Tubbo took the opportunity to tackle him back, managing to bring Dream to the ground instead and cheered in victory.

“Fear Big Crime!” Tubbo roared. He stared at his brother until they both broke into fits of laughter. Collapsed on each other, the two brothers shook with laughter, more than they have had for weeks. Eventually, the two calmed down and helped each other up. 

“Okay Tubbo. Let’s actually do some work now. How far have you gotten with your hives?” Dream asked his brother. Tubbo began to excitedly explain his progress as Dream followed by his side, listening like always as the day went by. 

By the time the sun was replaced by the moon, the two brothers just managed to finish the chores and reached the house. Dream groaned and rolled his aching shoulders while Tubbo walked unperturbed beside him. He has been doing the same thing every single day. His brother, on the other hand, was still injured from whatever he did off the island.

“God, I forgot how tiring that was.” Dream complained.

“Weak,” Tubbo snorted. He was met with a small shove to the shoulder in return.

The two rushed to get ready for bed, and after a few more quips and Tubbo tripping over his boots, the brothers were resting on the mattress. Dream leaned over to the bedside table, about to turn off the kerosene lamp when his shoulder was grabbed by his younger brother.

“Can you read me a book?”

“Of course, what do you want?” 

“Have you written anything new?” 

“I have a new novel, yeah,” said Dream. He got up to rifle through his satchel. He pulled out a leather-bound journal, the pages fluffed from being flipped through and written on. 

“It’s about a lone warrior in the woods, trying to find his way back home,” he said, turning the pages. 

“Did you get lost on your way back?” asked Tubbo. Dream laughed. 

“No, but I saw someone who was. I know that forest like the back of my hand, so I started wondering what it would be like if I didn’t know where I was going.”

Tubbo sighed. _ I wish I knew where I was going. _

Dream sat on the bed, his journal opened to the middle. 

“The sun was setting,” he read from the pages, “The air was thick with the scent of pine and rain. It would be dark soon, and Felix had no clue where his home was.”

“Why is his name Felix? That’s an odd name.”

“I don’t know, I just like it,” said Dream, “And it’s not odd, it’s a king’s name.”

“Well I’ve never heard of him,” said Tubbo. 

“Tubbo, you don’t go outside.”

“Oh really? Never would have noticed.” Dream rolled his eyes at his remark. Tubbo stuck his tongue out at Dream. 

“Are you going to interrupt me again?” He asked with his brow raised. 

“No.”

“Okay then, on with my story.

“Felix was lost, and the night was slowly conquering the skies. The moon was nowhere to be seen. The monsters would be strong tonight. 

“He looked around, frantically searching for a place to hide. He couldn’t fight, he had no weapons save for the broken hilt of his sword. His hands bled from jagged cuts. He was tired. So, so tired…

“The stars began to shine. They sparkled in the sky like glass beads spilled in dark water. The sun was but a dying ember in the sky. The leaves rustled. The spirits were sulking through the dark, searching for vectors of destruction...”

Dream continued on as Tubbo drifted off to sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you might have noticed, we are going to start posting a new chapter once every week on Saturday instead of every two weeks. I believe we can do it so we're gonna try to push ourselves. Also, I am proud that we predicted Mother Gothel Dream MONTHS before all of the Tommy exile streams. See y'all next week and hope you enjoy this bit of fluff before the next chapter!
> 
> Edit: Here's the complete lullaby written by Waxflowerwoes that we forgot to post!
> 
> Lantisian Lullaby  
> Little bird, little bird  
> Build your nest in my tree  
> I swear I'll keep my word  
> I swear you'll be happy
> 
> Little bird, little bird  
> Do not fly too far away  
> As I tend to my herd  
> The sky turns dark gray
> 
> Little bird, little bird  
> Sing with me through the day  
> A duet, skin and feathered  
> A price so little to repay
> 
> Little bird, little bird  
> I'm sorry that you weep  
> I will defend from the buzzard  
> Your safety I will keep
> 
> by waxflowerwoes


	6. Rules

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tubbo did understand. He always understood why Dream had to leave. That didn’t mean that he liked it when he’s left at the shores of their island and forced to watch as his brother rowed away in a boat, being left to wonder when he would come back and in what condition. He understood. _He had to_. But he still hated it.

Tubbo woke up and the bed was cold again. This time, he ignored it. He eagerly jumped out of bed, socked feet almost slipping on the floor. He threw the covers haphazardly on the bed, not caring to tidy it up. Dream would nag him later but for now, that was the least of his concerns. 

Tubbo had so many plans, so many ideas of what to do today. There were only so many hours of sunlight in one day, and all of yesterday was spent working. They could do other things today, like swimming or more singing. But even if it was just a day full of chores, he would enjoy every moment with his brother. He wanted to savor every single minute. 

Tubbo stepped out the door and headed towards the fireplace. There was no smell of burnt bacon this time, and he smiled.  _ Maybe Dream learned his lesson and is waiting for me to cook _ .  _ I should cook something nice this morning.  _ The memory of Dream’s failed attempt at cooking almost caused bubbles of warmth and laughter to trickle out his throat. Those bubbles, however, were instantly popped- no,  _ stomped on _ \- when he looked into the room. 

There in the middle was Dream, fully geared up and wearing the tattered cloak that they patched up recently. Instead of pajamas and loose clothing, Dream had iron armor already hugging his limbs. His face was the only part left uncovered, the white mask Tubbo hated resting on top of his forehead and on the verge of slipping down and fully covering his eyes. Eyes that flicked towards Tubbo and immediately froze in guilt.

Dream began to nervously ramble. “Tubbo! You’re awake I-”

“You’re leaving”. Tubbo’s monotone voice interrupted. Dream winced at the dead voice. He had expected it, and to some degree deserved it, but it still felt like cold water washing over his bones whenever his usually cheery brother sounded so… empty. With a sigh he left whatever supplies he was meddling with on the ground and went over to Tubbo. He rested his hands on his brother's shoulders and bent over to meet his eyes.

“You know I have to go, Tubbo. If you want me to get the paints for the apiary and be back in time for your birthday in three days, I have to start travelling now. You understand right?” Dream’s voice was low and gentle, trying to justify himself to his younger brother. Tubbo remained silent.

Tubbo did understand. He always understood why Dream had to leave. That didn’t mean that he liked it when he’s left at the shores of their island and forced to watch as his brother rowed away in a boat, being left to wonder when he would come back and in what condition. He understood. He  _ had  _ to. But he still hated it.

He would rather Dream stay for another day, to stay until his birthday. He didn’t care if he got his gift late, or if he got any at all. Just spending time with his brother was enough for Tubbo. Dream easily read him without trying, and he smiled sadly.

“Come on, Tubbo. I want to give you something special, okay? I promise I’ll stay behind for at least a week when I come back. We can even paint the hives together!” Dream softly cheered. He smiled and looked at Tubbo for a sign of acknowledgment.

Tubbo looked down to the ground, his hair covering his eyes. “You never keep your promises,” he quietly muttered.

Dream’s grip on Tubbo’s shoulders tightened. 

“What did you say?” His voice was less gentle, now laced with a small hint of fire. Tubbo ignored it and whipped his head up, his own eyes blazing with anger met Dream’s own unreadable expression.

Tubbo snapped. “You always say you will spend time with me but you never do! You always lie!” His voice raised. “‘ _ We need more resources Tubbo _ ’, ‘ _ This is important Tubbo _ ’, ‘ _ You won’t understand Tubbo _ ’”, he imitated. Dream’s eyes narrowed. They didn’t look as green when he did that. They grew darker, like the shadows of the forest surrounding their lake.

“I know you have to leave but why can’t you just at least stay for a few more days? I don’t care about your  _ promise _ because you never keep them! Can’t we just have a week where I have my brother actually by my side? I’m tired of having to wait here all alone waiting for my only family to come back injured like always, _ if you even come back at all _ !” Tubbo’s spat out. Escalating things was the last thing he should do, Tubbo  _ knew _ that. But he was  _ so _ tired. Tired of his hopes rising so high only to have it tethered to the ground. 

By the end of his rant, Tubbo was panting madly. Sparkling beads of spit had landed on his brother’s face, which was blank. His eyes were still dark and unreadable. He didn’t even move to wipe the spit. Tubbo realized why when he felt sharp pangs of pain on his shoulders. His brother’s hands were still there, but now they were gripping his skin tightly, hands slightly shaking from the force. He didn’t think Dream even realized. 

_ It stings.  _

“And I-”, Dream began. His voice was like acid and Tubbo tried to shrink away only to be stopped by the harsh grip on his shoulders. “I for one am tired of listening to you complain about the same things over and over. I’m  _ trying _ , okay?! I raised you _ by myself _ , and while I’m not perfect,  _ I try _ .”

He looked up at his brother’s eyes that were  _ burning _ with intensity. “ You don’t think I  _ want  _ to spend every moment with you? I risk my life out there almost daily, not because I want to, but because I  _ have  _ to. I get constantly injured and bleed all so I can make sure you can live-  _ survive _ . You don’t understand how dangerous it is out there!”

“No, I don’t! Because you never let me out there!” Tubbo shouted. He heard Dream actually growl before he was  _ lightly _ shoved backwards. He almost fell, his feet weren’t ready to stand on their own after his body had been supported for so long. 

Dream straightened his back and towered over Tubbo. Dream gripped the edge of his mask. “You know why I don’t let you outside.” 

The glaring bumps and warped skin from his burns twisting around his face stood out before being completely covered by him pulling the mask down. His face was now replaced by the scratched, white mask. The sloppy smiley face Tubbo drew years ago as a joke now stared back tauntingly. Tubbo  _ hated  _ that mask.

Dream marched back to his supplies and swiftly placed them all into a bag. Pulling the bag over his shoulders, he looked back to see Tubbo still standing in place, hunched over and slightly shaking. Dream’s tense shoulders lowered and he bit his lip under the mask.

“I already said I would let you out when you’re eighteen, and I will make sure that happens, alright? I promise, and I will actually keep this one.” His voice was less angry and more pained. Maybe even sad.

Tubbo’s feet were glued to the floor. His hands were shaking slightly. He didn’t say anything, he was too scared he would say something that would make the fire return. Dream took what he could and sighed before heading to the door. Before leaving, he turned around once more and faced Tubbo. 

“And if you want to go outside, you have to know the rules,” said Dream, his mouth twisting into a crooked smile. Almost like magic, the shaking in Tubbo ceased and he looked up at him. This time not with anger, but just plain annoyance.

The ugly, twisted feeling in his gut still remained, but he knew that doing anything more would just make the situation worse. Instead, Tubbo recognized the olive branch his brother was extending and masked his bitter frustration with a different emotion.

He could wear a mask as well.

“Surely not! You always say these rules every time you leave  _ which is a lot _ ”. He whined in an exaggeratedly childish tone. “I know these rules by heart! I feel like you just want to keep repeating them just to annoy me.” Tubbo’s frustration at Dream bled into a  _ different _ type of frustration. Plain, utter annoyance.

“It’s one of my many simple pleasures in life. How about this? Since you know them by heart, you can recite the rules for me.” Dream’s smirk was covered by the mask but Tubbo could  _ feel _ it.

Tubbo groaned and complained, just like he had when he was younger, but Dream continued to stand there with his arms crossed as he waited. A part of him wondered if saying nothing at all would lead to Dream staying forever, but that was just a silly wish. He took a deep breath. 

“Fineee. In a situation where I find myself outside or in danger, I must follow these six rules.”

He raised a finger. 

“Rule number one. Do not interact with strangers, just run or hide. Do not speak to them, do not answer them, and do not get found.” Tubbo recited from memory while Dream nodded along. 

Despite how much Tubbo despised the rules, they were undoubtedly wise and reasonable. The only person he had ever seen in years was his brother, and he had no clue on how to even begin interacting with others. But it’s not like he would ever meet anyone until he was eighteen and could go outside.  _ If  _ he even meets anyone.

“Rule number two. Do not trust anyone but Dream. Do not listen or believe anyone else.” 

His brother coughed as a reminder. Tubbo rolled his eyes. “I am not going to say ‘do not trust anyone but my brother dearest.’ I don’t care if we made those rules years ago, I’m not saying that now.” Dream pouted, but gestured for him to continue.

“Rule number three. Never go outside or travel in the dark. Not that I can do that right now.” Even with the mask on, Tubbo could feel Dream’s warning gaze so he quickly moved on.

“If I ever see a hostile monster or spirit, don’t fight. Just run. Uh, rule number four.” 

He had no problems with this rule. Tubbo had witnessed and even healed the damage monsters could cause. He remembered the one time Dream was caught in a creeper’s blast, the burns piled on top of each other and blood spilling. So much blood.

Besides, Tubbo would rather avoid fighting if he could. When he was younger he would always watch Dream outside on the shore, wielding his blade and practicing with swift movements and steady swings. Eyes bright and shining, Tubbo had begged his brother endlessly to teach him how to fight as well. 

Dream was hesitant and avoided the matter for weeks, seemingly fighting with his own mind until he eventually dropped a small, wooden sword in Tubbo’s hands. He couldn’t always be there to protect him, Dream told him, so he should learn to be able to protect himself when needed. 

It went well until Tubbo’s curiosity led to him touching and swinging Dream’s own sword around instead of his own wooden one. It led to a large, bleeding laceration on his arm that refused to be healed. One near fatal infection later, Dream burned the wooden sword and always kept his sword by his side. Tubbo practiced with bows and arrows instead.

“Rule number five. Never tell anyone about my powers.” 

If his brother was ever home, Dream would endlessly remind his brother to be cautious of his magic. He knew that his powers were rare, and not everyone, if  _ anyone _ , had it. His brother told tales of people who would try to take advantage or hurt him, some who even almost  _ succeeded  _ in the past. 

That was one reason he was out here, isolated from everywhere else. His power was a treasure people tried to covet. A treasure that must be protected. Of course, his dramatic and sappy brother would always call Tubbo himself the treasure, using that exact reason to coddle him. 

Tubbo once wondered if he could somehow just get rid of his magic and finally end this isolation. But then Dream would barge in, just a few moments away from death, and he knew that he couldn’t get rid of it now. Not when his brother needed it so much. Not when Tubbo could help.

“And last but not least, rule number six. Never tell anyone about myself, this place, or my brother.”  _ As if I’ll ever have the chance to do so _ .

As he finished, his brother slowly clapped, the sound muffled by his gloved hands. He beckoned Tubbo over and the younger brother slowly shuffled closer. Dream’s hand raised into the air and Tubbo prayed that they didn’t land on his aching shoulders. Instead, the hand rested on his hair before ruffling it. Dream’s large fingers gently combed through his messy locks before they let go and engulfed Tubbo in a hug. 

“I’m sorry Tubbo.” He whispered, truly sounding apologetic. Dream tried to move back but was stopped by small fingers clutching onto his cloak. Carefully, he removed Tubbo’s hand and held it in his own.

“I have to go. Will you at least pray for my safety?” Tubbo nodded. He always did.

“Thank you. I love you, Tubbo.” Dream let go of his hand and opened the door.

“I love you too, Dream.” His voice was small but Dream still heard it. The smiley face on his mask turned to him and he gave a small wave before leaving. The door closed. 

Tubbo’s shoulders stung.

He didn’t know how long he stood there, staring at the door as if waiting for it to open again. Even if it was Dream, bloodied and hurt, Tubbo just wanted him to come back. He realized that he didn’t even get to send Dream off at the shore like he always did. It was a tradition he had never broken, not until today.

His brother probably knew that too but still let Tubbo stay inside. Dream could have just pushed him to the shore despite his stubbornness. Instead, his brother chose to leave without forcing him, even if it meant a lonely departure. Tubbo hated himself for not doing the normal goodbyes. His brother deserved at least that, no matter how angry he was. Ignoring the pain in his stomach from the lack of food, he stumbled back into his bed room and collapsed on his bed before darkness took over.

• • •

Tubbo woke up and the bed was cold. The bed sheets were still crumpled at his feet from yesterday. Dream never got to yell at Tubbo for not cleaning the bed. Against the portion of his mind that clung to the pillow, he slowly got up. It was a new day, and he had more work to do. Especially when he completely ignored all of his work yesterday. He had to finish his chores on the island and prepare for his birthday and Dream’s return. After all, what else could he do?

He took some bread and jammed it in his mouth just to appease his yawning stomach. He didn’t feel like cooking this morning. Grabbing a spare pair of clothes, Tubbo left the house and trekked to the edge of the lake to wash up. 

As he stood on the soft beach, Tubbo could see his reflection on the still water. Red eyes atop rosy, tear-stained cheeks stared back. He ignored the ugly state of his face and began to undress. Shaky fingers slowly unbuttoned his green shirt and he gasped. Splotches of purple bruises in the shape of fingerprints marred the skin on his shoulders. 

Immediately, he dropped his extra clothes and buttoned his shirt back up… he could wash later at night. When it was too dark to see.

He didn’t want to look at his sorry appearance, but when he looked back down to the water, he realized that he couldn’t. The reflection of his panicked face grew distorted as ripples began to emerge, slowly growing. The moving water ripped apart Tubbo’s reflection, ruining the once still water. Tubbo whipped his head up and peered over the lake. A flash of golden hair caught his eye.

How was that possible? Dream just left yesterday and wouldn’t be back until tomorrow, right? And there was no boat, so it couldn’t be him. And it wasn’t. It was someone else. A blond head in the middle of the lake, floating. Floating and not moving. 

Tubbo stepped one foot into the lake. He had to do something-

_ “Rule number one, do not interact with strangers, just run or hide. Do not speak to them, do not answer them, and do not get found.” _

Tubbo paused. The person in the lake wasn’t Dream. He was a  _ stranger _ , and strangers were  _ dangerous _ . He should run, hide, or just let whoever that was drown.  _ That’s what Dream would want, right? That’s what would keep me safe?  _

Tubbo’s heart clenched and he looked backwards but his foot refused to step back onto the shore. Instead, he moved forward. Forward into the lake, deeper into the murky depths. The water reached his knees, then chest and fully over his head as he dove into the lake.

Voices that sounded much like his brother screamed in his ear. But still he swam on. The body moved, acting against both his mind and heart. He didn't know why, but he continued swimming towards the blond color amidst the waves of blue.

Now closer to the body, he realized that the person was actually a boy, maybe even near his age. Truthfully, Tubbo had very little to compare to other than himself and Dream, but he seemed young. The boy’s blonde hair was bright, just like his own, but he was just as tall as his brother. Maybe everyone was that height, and Tubbo was the odd one out.

His hands hovered over the body for a moment before making a decision. Tubbo was already here, and his body refused to let things be. He wrapped his arms around the long limbs and began to pull.

The boy’s lanky figure and heavy weight almost dragged Tubbo down. But he had spent his life doing labor and living on an island, and he was strong.  _ Very  _ strong. And while he may not be as good as his brother, the water was still his domain, and he could swiftly traverse through the depths as if he was on land. The two boys came to the surface as the smaller boy tugged the stranger all the way to shore.

Tubbo pushed the tall boy onto the beach, wincing as the body slammed harshly onto the rocks hidden by the mud. Bringing a hand to his neck, he could feel a faint pulse. He was still alive. Taking a better look at the boy, he could see scratches littered all over his body, his clothes slightly ripped. 

The outside world really must be rough if a child like him was so injured. Splotches of red stood out greatly against the beige pants and white vest. The stains stood out even against the darkened, damp material. Tubbo panicked. Almost instinctively, he brought his hands over the stains and was about to sing when he paused.

_ “Rule number five. Never tell anyone about my powers.” _

Hesitantly, Tubbo pulled away his hands. He could do this the old fashioned way. Silently apologizing to the boy, he raised the shirt to look at the wounds, only to find nothing but clear skin, if not slightly scratched. Confused, Tubbo dropped the shirt and looked back at the crimson marks. He lightly traced the stain only to pull back an equally red finger. 

Berries.

Tubbo was relieved that the boy was fine, more so that he didn’t have to resort to using his powers. Otherwise, he would’ve broken a rule-  _ The rules. _

There on the shore, the gentle wind chilling him in his wet clothes, Tubbo sat by the other boy-  _ the stranger _ that he willingly went up to and  _ saved _ . He had just broken the first rule.

_ Dream is going to kill me _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ngl this was basically edited and changed last minute because we procrastinated so much but we got a schedule dangit and we will stick to it! Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Next one will be an interlude and very lore heavy so look forward to that! Also woo! Tommy and Tubbo finally meet!
> 
> Comment below or go to Tumblr @NKhaotic! Let us all attempt to manifest Waxflowerwoes to also get a Tumblr. Y'all wouldn't believe the art and ideas she has for this story!


	7. Heavy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, the survivor of a spirit attack goes back to their normal life unaffected. But not Phil. The wings weren’t physical, they were really just two protrusions of black mist, but they changed him. They were a weight on his shoulders, a heavy reminder of everything he suffered and everything he lost. 
> 
> He was scared to lose anything ever again.

Being king was never what Philza wanted. He hated the court nobles and their bickering. He hated the frivolous gestures his advisors told him to do because of some old Lantisian tradition. And most of all, he hated all the damn paperwork. 

“Do I really have to do this?” he asked, almost throwing down his quill in frustration. A young scribe stood with her hands clasped together on the other side of the desk. 

“I don’t think you  _ have  _ to do anything, your majesty,” she said, fiddling with her thin spectacles.

He chuckled. “Good answer.” She smiled, but he could tell she was still nervous. That was another thing he hated about being king. No one would dare relax around him. No one, except the two buffoons talking loudly in the hallway outside his chamber. 

The little scribe jumped when the two princes opened the heavy doors with a bang. Philza handed her the unfinished paperwork with a smile and gestured for her to leave. She scampered out, almost losing her red scholar’s cap in the process as she squeezed past the large figures of the king’s brothers. 

“I still don’t understand why you want to go after that kid, he’s just a thief!” said Wilbur. 

“Listen, Will. Someone broke into our palace and you expect me to  _ not  _ go after them?” his younger brother said. 

“We have guards to do that for us, Techno!” Will’s voice was higher, like it always was when he was trying to make a point. He may be second oldest, but Phil always thought his fluffy brown hair and lanky physique made him look several years younger. 

“I’m better than the guards, I can do it faster.” Techno folded his arms across his chest. 

“Exactly! You don’t need to waste your time on a petty thief!”

“To be fair, Will, he almost killed me with his escape plan,” Phil mindlessly interjected as he continued to mess with papers. 

“See, he’s not just a thief, he’s an assassin! You really don’t want me to go after someone who tried to kill our brother!?” exclaimed Techno. Phil smiled wearily. He was touched by the emotion infused into his brother’s usually flat tone. 

“I thought we agreed that had happened by accident!” Wilbur said. 

“I really don’t think it matters,” Techno snapped. 

Philza sighed. He picked up the template for the new wanted posters. It lacked a drawing, but the reward was high for a criminal convicted of theft, vandalism, attempted murder, and treason. Such a large reward for such a young boy. 

The room fell into a tired silence. Phil looked at his brothers. They were tall and healthy. And _alive_. Phil slumped over, his shoulders ached, and used his elbows to prop himself up on his desk. 

“What are you planning to do?” Wilbur’s voice was softened compared to earlier. It was the same tone he used when he sang. 

“I don’t know, Will. This could be someone’s son or brother, and I don’t want to take him away from them like that.”

“Are you okay?” Techno sounded concerned. “You’re usually a little more focused on cold justice.”

“I’m fine, I just… he stole the discs and destroyed the nursery.”

“Exactly why we need to hunt him down. We deserve revenge.”   


“I don’t know, Techno. I just…” Philza sighed. “I need some time to think. There’s been a lot of...” he swirled his hand in the air, like a falcon circling its prey, “ _ everything _ , lately.”

“Okay, then. We’ll go.” 

“Tell us when you make a decision,” Wilbur chirped as he turned away to the door. 

With a bit more whispers and bickering, the two left. The doors clicked softly when Techno closed them. Phil collapsed further, his head falling into his hands. He felt so conflicted, so  _ torn _ . 

The penalty for treason was death. If the thief was caught, the law dictated that he receive execution. But how could he consign someone to feel as he felt? How could he let another brother, or father, or mother, or sister, feel his loss, his pain, his suffering? Not to mention, the thief was just a mere  _ child _ . It was an almost unbearable weight, just like the wings on his back. 

His damn wings. 

They were a constant reminder of what he lost. A heavy chain on his mind despite them barely having any physical form. Philza had tried so hard to forget what happened fourteen years ago, but no other span of time had so rapidly changed his life like that. Never had he lost so much so quickly. He tried to think straight as awful memories circled him like phantoms. 

His father had died. That was the first domino. He hadn’t been a particularly well liked king, but he held the kingdom together well enough. He must have, because it managed to just barely survive byt the time Phil took over and stitched the crumbling pieces back together. 

Then his idiot brothers had decided to fight each other for the throne. Another domino. Well, “decided” was a strong word. The reality of the situation was much more convoluted. More twisted, intricate, and vile.  _ Politics _ .

The kingdom’s political minds all had different opinions of who should rule after Phil’s father. Phil was the oldest of his brothers. He was the obvious and most stable choice. But his mother wasn’t the queen, but a mere concubine who was well-loved by many but had no true status. That posed a problem for all the traditionalists in court. 

The legitimate son of the king and queen was the youngest of the older four princes. The  _ true _ crown prince. He was the same age as Technoblade, if only a few months younger. Phil had watched for months as the queen and her allies filled the boy’s head with dreams of power and control. He was only fifteen at the time, but he was strong and  _ ruthless _ . 

Techno, on the other hand, had been cursed by heredity. Their great grandfather was the great uniter of their kingdom. He was a legend known for his prowess in battle and his unusual pink hair and red eyes. The same hair and eyes his great grandson had inherited. The fighting skills, however, were not genetic, but earned through skill and work. Techno had been raised differently. He was not raised to be a ruler, but a fighter, a warrior, a  _ killer _ . 

In the end, the royal family were mere puppets controlled by more vicious nobles. They could do nothing but listen, at least until the next king was crowned. War hungry hawks and fanatics of the past dug their claws into Technoblade while the snakes who supported the queen from the start whispered in the ears of the crown prince.

Even Phil himself was restricted with chains by those who supported him because of his age and wisdom. He had been raised to rule, yes, but he was never ready for  _ this _ . Oh, how he would love to silence their whispers, their sweet lies and false promises. But instead, he was forced to stand by and let the crack in his family grow, like a ravine splitting the earth.

Wilbur and Phil had watched from a balcony in the southwest wing as their younger brothers fought. Even though this was supposed to be their home, a crowd of people gathered in the main hall to watch the debacle. Will clung to him, his nails leaving marks on Phil’s hand. 

He could remember feeling cold, so,  _ so cold _ . The fight had been a long time coming. Both of the boys had been honed into weapons for their whole lives, and now they were finally being used. Blades pointed at their own flesh and blood.

Phil didn’t know who he wanted to win. How could he decide? They were his  _ brothers _ . Every time something happened, every time either of them tripped, or landed a good hit on the other, he flinched. He could barely handle it, he wanted to  _ scream _ . As Techno started gaining the upper hand, Phil’s throat clenched. He closed his eyes, squeezing Will’s hand. He didn’t want to witness what would happen. 

He didn’t have to. 

There had been bombs planted in tunnels underneath the castle. Phil, to this day, didn’t know what bastards would put them so close to the nursery. They exploded during the duel, filling large, open hall with flames and smoke.

Phil remembered grabbing Will and holding him close, hearing nothing but a ringing in his ears and the pounding of his heart. His vision was spotty, clouded by ash and sparks. Other than the trembling brother in his arms, he couldn’t see anything.

He knelt there, on the ground, sheltering Wilbur with his body. He started coughing, a rasping hack that made his body convulse. Phil’s heart ached as he cradled his little brother in his arms. The aching transformed into panic as he looked around, seeing the burning rubble. 

_ Where are they?  _ Where was the rest of his family?

Techno had survived, relatively unscathed. He was in the middle of the grand hall, surrounded by scattered dust and wisps of flames. But he was fine. He was  _ safe _ . Phil rushed down the stairs, hoping the wooden balcony wouldn’t catch fire before he and Wilbur got off it. He left Wilbur with Techno, forcing the two to  _ promise _ to stay together before rushing back into the crowd of panicked people and falling rubble. He had to look for the rest of his family.

Their mother was not as fortunate. She had been closer to the explosion, closer to the edge of the castle’s compound. Wounds and burns littered her body when Phil found her on another balcony. She was alive as of now, tended to by their family’s servants. 

That was three family members safe. And that was three family members lost in the chaos. A large crack split the air as the lowest balcony burned away from its supports and tumbled through the ground. The wing was quickly burning away and he didn’t know where his brothers were. 

At this point, he could care less about himself. Even when his palms blistered and burned shoving away debris, or when embers would sizzle on his skin. Despite the ashes on his tongue or the way he couldn’t breathe. Phil moved on because his brothers  _ needed _ him.

There was a void, a sinking dread, consuming his heart as Phil searched in vain for his other three brothers. The twins had been asleep, they were supposed to be safe in bed, in one of the most sheltered rooms, nestled between the main hall and the sturdy wall. They were safe, of course they were, and he would save them from the fire, and he would take them to their mother and he would find the queen’s son too, because he loved all of them. He loved them so much and  _ damn anyone who hurts them... _

But he couldn’t find them.

He couldn’t find  _ any  _ of them, not the twins or the queen’s son. Not even their bodies. 

In his despair, he had knelt in the ruined nursery, crying as the flames raged around him. He sobbed and choked as the ash filled air rushed into his lungs. His throat was burning and no matter how much he coughed, the ash wouldn’t leave. 

Philza’s memories blurred like the plumes of smoke swirling around him after that. Someone pulled him out of the fire and ripped his clothes, which had caught on fire, off of him. He was moved to the opposite side of the castle, far from the flames. 

He couldn’t have slept, no matter how much he knew he should. He was too worried and full of grief. Phil had stayed awake, sobbing and coughing, for three nights. He tried getting up once, only to black out from exhaustion. 

And then, in his weak, vulnerable state, the phantom came. It possessed him, screamed in his head, wanting nothing but blood and carnage. His limbs grew cold and shaky. He spent weeks curled up in bed, his hands and feet held close, desperately wanting to feel the same warmth his ash filled lungs had felt. He felt like he was  _ dying _ , and that was because he  _ should  _ have. Phantoms left no survivors. 

The phantom wanted his mind, it wanted his body, and Phil almost let it have them. He had lost more than half of his family in the past week, how was he supposed to move on? How was he supposed to live his life after this? 

Phil couldn’t tell if it was a dream or not, but he saw a bright light and three distant figures. His lost brothers. They were all  _ smiling _ . His half-brother, the queen’s son, looked more happy than he had ever been in years. The venom his bright green eyes had carried for so long had vanished. And the twins…

The twins, not quite two years old, were full of excitement, just like they had been in life. Phil cried as they bounced up to him, hugging him in the vision. He buried his face in their bright blond hair. The twins beamed at him, and he almost cried. Phil would never be able to see their smiles again… not unless he joined them. 

What would it be like, to just give in and join his youngest brothers. He could finally fulfill his job as the oldest brother and guide them, even if it was to the afterlife.

_ We’ll finally be free. Free of this kingdom, of this stupid throne. We can be a family. A real family.  _ Phil was ready to give up. He was ready to  _ die _ . 

And then he heard the faint strumming of a guitar. He felt a calloused hand on his face. The sensations ripped him from the little boys, away from the realm of light and back to his death bed, back to the world that had taken so much from him. Even when death was supposed to be guaranteed, Phil could never be free. 

Sometimes, the survivor of a spirit attack goes back to their normal life unaffected. But not Phil. The wings weren’t physical, they were really just two protrusions of black mist, but they changed him. They were a weight on his shoulders, a heavy reminder of everything he suffered and everything he lost. 

He was scared to lose anything ever again.

Phil stood up. After grabbing his green cloak off the wall, he swung it around his body to cover the plumes of smoke that trailed him. His eyes were misting and he almost tripped on the thick rug lining the floor of his office. Looking down, he noticed his clothes were still dusty from the collapse of the nursery. Phil wasn’t going to change. Kristen was away at a treaty summit, so she wasn’t around to nag him about it. 

Spirits, he missed her so much. He missed her laugh and how she teased him. As he lightly brushed the dust off his trousers, he remembered the first time she had come to Lantis. It was a year after his coronation, the first party held at the castle since his father’s death. Phil had been so uneasy, so worried that something would go wrong with so many people, so many  _ variables _ , around. He had stepped out of the dance hall for some fresher air when he saw her. 

A young woman, her dark hair shimmering like ink in the lantern light. She was looking around nervously, peeking around corners and glancing down hallways. Phil took off his crown when he went to go talk to her. He didn’t remember exactly what she said, probably mumbling about being lost, but he was too distracted by her smile. She was dazzling and the only reason he danced that night. 

Philza missed the sparkle she brought to the castle. He had to keep telling himself she was safe, she would be back soon. It was hard, since he almost stopped her from leaving because he was scared. Accidents could happen anywhere, anytime, and he would want to die if anything happened to her that he wasn’t there for. Before getting on the ship a week ago, Kristen had kissed him and told him everything would be fine, but that was what his mother had said before the funeral, before the night that changed his life forever. 

Phil wondered if the phantom had ever really left him, or if it lived in the back of his mind, whispering horrible things when he wanted to be happy. 

He eyed the calendar hung from the wall. It was two days until the Lantern Festival. That day would mark fourteen years since he last saw his youngest three brothers. Some in court thought it was callous to have a festival on the day three of the princes died, but it was also the twins’ birthday. And besides, it wasn’t so much a joyous festival as much as it was a yearly memorial. 

But that was in two days. He had other things to do today that weren't mourning. 

The corridors of the castle were bustling after the day’s excitement. The guards, embarrassed by the assassination attempt, trailed him all the way to the Scholar’s Hall, a structure similar to how the southwest wing had been constructed. It had a massive stone shell, with the middle portion open like a roofed atrium with balconies granting access to the other floors. Lanterns lit the rooms, hung from chains on the ceiling and hooks on the carved wooden pillars. 

An artist had an appointment with him to do the sketches for the wanted posters.  _ When was it?  _ He checked the watch in his pocket. He had two minutes. He found a bench under the balcony and sat there, leaning his back against the wall. His eyelids were heavy, he was tired from today’s ordeal. For five minutes, he allowed himself to rest. 

“Your Majesty?” a young voice said. Phil opened his eyes. 

“You’re late, August,” he said to the artist. 

“My apologies, your Majesty. I got sidetracked finishing a project,” August said. Phil grunted. He was still sleepy. 

“Do you have a drawing room you’d like to use?” Phil asked. 

August smiled and tapped the pad of paper he was holding with his pencil. “No,” he said, “I have everything I need right here.” 

“Let’s begin then,” the king said, straightening his back and making eye contact with the young man. August sat down in a cross legged position, using his knee to support the drawing pad. 

“How old was the thief- err... assassin?” he asked. Phil bit his lip.  _ He didn’t mean to try to kill me _ .

“Maybe fifteen, fourteen? I don’t know, most children all look the same to me.” 

“Face shape?” 

“Hmmm, rather square. He was pretty skinny, too.”

“Hair?”

“Blonde, short, and very messy.”

He continued with questions, and Philza tried to describe his memories as accurately as possible. August scribbled away at the paper, using hard shadows to shade the boy’s face. When he finished, he held up his work. 

“Is this pretty accurate?” he asked. 

It was. Except for one thing. 

“His eyes aren’t that dark,” Phil said, “His eyes are blue like-”  _ mine _ “-the sky.” 

August nodded, and used an eraser to remove some of the pencil marks. 

“Thank you for doing this,” Phil said through a sigh. 

“It is my pleasure to work with you, your Majesty. I hope this little tramp gets caught.”

Phil smiled as the artist walked away, but secretly wished August’s words wouldn’t be realized. His heart was already so heavy. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lore lore lore! This is an interlude where we get to hear a bit of Phil's side and backstory! Things are probably a lot more clear now but if you have any questions or things you want clarified, just ask!


	8. Deal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With wide eyes, Tommy slowly stepped out the doorway and looked around him. He was on an island surrounded by an endless lake. No wonder Tubbo let him go without a single worry. 
> 
> He was _trapped_.

The last thing Tommy remembered- well to be honest, he couldn’t remember much. But at that moment, as he was tied to a chair in a dark room, he thought that maybe he could care a little less about the past and be more concerned about the present. 

A thick rope tightly pressed his hands to the back of a chair. His legs were bound so tightly that the bones were parallel to the legs of the char. His mouth had a rag wrapped around his head muffled all noises. Screaming wouldn’t do any good. Looking around the dim room, Tommy wasn’t sure if it would bring help or just more trouble.

“Who are you?” A voice whispered from the dark, and Tommy stilled. He could barely turn his head, and even if he could, he had no chance of pinpointing the source in the low light. Even if he strained his eyes, he couldn’t see a single thing, not even an outline. He just continued to sit there, not able to answer with the rag on. After a few moments, he knew that the voice realized that fact as well.

“O-oh wait, you can’t speak. If- if I remove it, promise you won’t scream.” The voice came from behind this time, he was  _ certain _ . Giving a hesitant nod, he waited until hands-  _ small hands _ gently touched the back of his neck and untied the knot holding the gag in place. Almost instantly, Tommy began to scream.

“Listen here  _ bitch boy _ you better let me out right now. You have no idea who you’re dealing with. Oooh, when I get outta here you better bet Imma beat you up real good,” Tommy immediately growled. He was still tied up- the ropes were thick- but he used his weight to shake the chair back and forth, hopefully striking fear into his captor. 

The person snickered behind him. “Oh come  _ on _ !” The voice exclaimed in a playful manner. “I think you’re a bit too tied up to do anything, to be honest.”

Tommy frowned. That wasn’t the usual response to his screaming. “Well, no thanks to you. Can’t even see crap in this dark place. I’m not a rodent like you.” He continued to look around for anything that could help him but was still met with pitch black.

“Well that’s a bit rude, don’t you think?” Tommy heard some shuffling as the voice moved around him. “Sorry about the lights, lemme get that. Also, rodents can’t see in the dark so that doesn’t even make sense.”

“Well,  _ you _ don’t make sense-.” Bright light suddenly filled the room as thick drapes were shoved to the side, interrupting Tommy who was immediately blinded. Cursing under his breath, he slowly blinked and adjusted his eyes to the bright sunlight streaming in through the windows. 

In front of him, Tommy could see a person by the window. The light from behind created shadows over the boy’s face, but two things greatly stuck out to Tommy. 

The first thing that stuck out was how  _ bright _ the boy’s hair was, shining almost like real gold. Even Tommy’s own blond hair seemed duller in comparison, and his hair was the brightest yellow he had ever seen so far.

_ Well except for the king’s blonde hair _ . Tommy ignored the last thought about the king he almost killed. Not the time.

Then there was the second thing he noticed.

“What the hell you’re so small! You’re a literal child. Maybe even a baby!” Tommy shouted incredulously. Was he seriously kidnapped by a small child?

The other boy did not look amused. “Well, I am a child since I’m only sixteen.”

“What the hell! No way you're older than me,” Tommy said instinctively.

“Oh! So you’re a child as well! I’m technically still fifteen, but my birthday is in two days so it’s close enough.” The boy beamed towards him. 

_ Oh thank the spirits, he’s still the same age as me _ .

Now with proper lighting, Tommy could see the entire room it was in. Sweeping it with his eyes, he found it surprisingly...normal. It was a quaint room with a few chairs and a rough wooden table. There were two doors, one next to the window leading outside and another one which was slightly ajar. Through it, he thought he could glimpse the edge of a bed with a wrinkly sheet and a knot of blankets at the foot. 

Not the most frightening kidnapper hideout, he had to admit.

There was a large bow hanging on the wall. It shimmered faintly, waves of magic pulsed from the runes carved into it. Did someone else live here? He couldn’t imagine someone so small wielding such a large and powerful bow.

Tommy looked back at the door to the outside. The boy stood with his weight favoring his side closest to it, like he was waiting for him to try making a break for it. If he could only free himself of his restraints, he might be able to. Looking at the boy’s small stature, he bet he could easily overpower him if push came to shove.

He tugged again on the ropes binding his wrists. They didn’t budge. The skin of his wrists would be stripped away before they ever broke. 

_ Time to pull out my charming personality _ .

“Okay listen here, kid”   
  
“I’m older,” the boy interrupted.

“- _ No _ , you’re not but as I was saying- Can you please let me out of these ropes, man? They’re a bit uh… restricting.”

The small boy leaned against the wall and crossed his arms while he stared at Tommy with narrowed eyes. “Well it depends on what you say. How did you get here? How did you find u- me?” 

Tommy eyed the boy a bit before groaning. “Listen here big man- or small man, I guess. I don’t know where I am, I’m not the one who kidnapped and tied somebody up! The last thing I remember was being in the mountains and falling off a cliff while on my horse- POGCHAMP!”

Tommy jolted up in his seat and struggled even harder to get out. His horse! What happened to Pogchamp after the fall? He didn’t know how  _ he  _ survived falling off the cliff, but he desperately hoped that his horse was safe as well.

“...pogchamp?” The boy asked, his brow furrowed like two wiggly beams of sunlight.

“Yes my horse, PogChamp! Have you seen him? I don’t know how you found me but he must have been there too right? He’s a big, white horse, an absolute beauty and he’s the best horse ever and my family gave him to me. Please, is he safe? What did you do to him?” Tommy begged. 

The boy stood still before shaking his head, and Tommy wilted. “Sorry, I haven’t seen your horse. I found you washed up in the lake and saved you from drowning so your story seems legit. I didn’t see a horse, though. Sorry.”

The little bit of news devastated Tommy, but it also gave him information. So the boy wasn’t a kidnapper, but his savior? He might have thanked him if he wasn’t tied to a chair. What kind of person saves someone then binds them to a chair?

Pushing off the wall with his shoulder, the boy began to walk towards Tommy who instinctively closed his eyes. To his surprise, he felt the same gentle fingers that untied his gag briefly brush his skin before the tight ropes around his limbs loosened and fell to the ground. He looked up at the boy in confusion who only gave a small smile back.

“It seems like you’re telling the truth and you care a lot for your horse. You don’t seem too bad of a guy.”

Tommy felt touched. That was actually kind of him. Kinder than he’d expect a kidnapper to be. Instincts from his training almost kicked in, urging him to knee the boy and make a run for it. But his more logical side took control (for once) and forced him to remain passive.

“Why do you think that?” Tommy was wary. People this kind were either secretly malicious or just naive. Hopefully, the boy was the latter. They were easier to take advantage of. If the boy wasn’t the manipulative type, then Tommy could fill that role.

“Well anybody who cares that much for someone or an animal gotta be a good person, right? I myself love my bees, those amazing little fellas.” The boy extended a hand towards Tommy. “I’m Tubbo. Please don’t kill me.”

He laughed at the boy-  _ Tubbo _ . He  _ was _ a naive fool. That or his acting was masterful, but he doubted that. Tubbo’s luminous blue eyes shone too bright, too innocently, and betrayed his kind heart.

_ What a weird guy _ .

Tommy stood from the chair and slowly stretched as to not alarm Tubbo. He looked around the room as he gently rubbed his raw wrists which were bruised a nasty color. Glancing back at the door, he felt a bit relieved that he didn’t immediately try to bolt. The door was imprisoned by iron bars, chains, and locks. More than enough to hold back a zombie horde.  _ Overkill, much? _

How would he have enough time to undo all of those? He glanced at the chair. It was sturdy, but not impossible for him to lift. Maybe… 

_ No _ . He hated to say it, but Tommy had no idea where he was. He was currently free, but then what? Where would he go? As of now, he was with Tubbo, a weird, friendly boy his age who was clearly either an inexperienced or sucky kidnapper. He could work with this. He didn’t have to fight him. Not with chairs, anyway. 

“So… you have bees?” Tommy asked. In a flash, Tubbo grasped his hands within his own, beaming brighter than his already sunny hair.

“I do! I  _ love _ bees!” Tubbo exclaimed with utter excitement before dragging Tommy to the door. Without even bothering to look at the door, he swiftly unlocked all the locks lining the crevice between the planks of the door and the wall with one hand while still grasping tightly onto Tommy. “Let me show you!”

_ Well that was easy _ .

Against his better judgment, Tommy was hesitant and slightly pulled back. “Wait, why are you willing to let me go out so easily? You really shouldn’t trust me just because I care about my horse. What if I just run right now?” he asked. This scenario was just way too simple, too suspicious.

And even in the rare case Tubbo was just that naive, then he should learn not to trust that easily. That wasn’t good for anyone. 

Once Tommy got a good sense of his surroundings, he could knock him out and make a run for it. He would be helping Tubbo wake up from his sheltered world. He’d be doing him a favor, to be honest.

But Tubbo was not that naive. As he turned the doorknob, the boy looked up at Tommy. His blue eyes shone with a knowing glint and he bore a grin that was too wide to be a natural smile. “Well, you wouldn’t be able to escape anyways.”

The door swung right open. Standing at the doorway, Tommy could see the small area of land he was on blend into a muddy beach. After that, all he could see was the endless blue expanse. If he squinted, he could perhaps see the other shore. He couldn’t. Only the faraway mountains rose from the bluish haze to touch the sky. 

“I know you can’t swim.” 

With wide eyes, Tommy slowly stepped out the doorway and looked around him. He was on an island surrounded by an endless lake. No wonder Tubbo let him go without a single worry. 

He was  _ trapped _ .

“... _ oh _ .” Tommy let out a small, broken whimper. He was  _ stuck _ there. Tubbo, feeling pity for him, gently tugged his arms towards the back of his house. 

“Well, how about we look at my bees for now?” he asked gently but didn’t bother to wait for an answer. Tommy nodded anyway before sullenly following from behind. At least he didn’t try to make a run for it. There was no chance of escaping now, not unless he had a boat or could suddenly turn into a fish to swim away.

The two stopped in front of a row of beehives. They were clearly cared for and well-maintained, at least Tommy thought so. He knew nothing about bees, but clearly, the other boy did. Tubbo began to happily chatter about bees, and Tommy never knew one person could know so many facts about the little buzzers. 

In a way, it was somewhat endearing and calmed Tommy a surprising amount. The anxiety and hopelessness he felt at being trapped bled away as he listened to Tubbo’s chipper voice. When his voice momentarily faded, Tommy would respond with a little hum or noise to encourage him to keep going. While the boy talked, he studied the terrain, hoping to find an escape route.

He couldn’t see anything useful. Apart from the house, the beehives, and a few trees, the island looked barren. No boats, no rafts, and  _ definitely  _ no bridges. 

“You really love bees, don’t you?” Tommy asked when Tubbo fell into a lull of silence. 

“Yeah, I do. It’s actually a dream of mine to one day get off of this island and see the big glowing bees on my birthday.” Tubbo said wistfully.

Tommy jolted, almost falling face-first into a flowering bush full of thorns and stingers.  _ Glowing bees _ ? No, that wasn’t important right now. The part that stuck out to Tommy was, ‘dream of mine to one day get off of this island.’  _ He’s stuck on this island too _ .

Tubbo wasn’t his jailer, he was another  _ prisoner _ . The boy was no longer an enemy, but another victim. No wonder he was so friendly and so kind. Tubbo was just like  _ him _ , and for how long? How long was this teenager stuck on this island in isolation?

“Are-are you the only one on this island?” Tommy asked desperately. 

“No, there’s my br- I mean. Yeah.” Tubbo stuttered. 

“Wait no, finish your sentence. Who else is here?” Was their true captor currently on this island? Were there more children trapped here like them?   


“Um…. my brother  _ was _ on this island.” Tubbo nervously whispered, looking away. 

Tommy understood in an instant. “Oh. I’m sorry for your loss. I didn’t know he died.” He gave Tubbo an apologetic look. The other boy grimaced and opened his mouth before closing it again. He looked away and pursed his lips. 

Seeing that the boy obviously didn’t want to talk about his dead brother, he leaned down a bit and gave an awkward hug with his gangly arms. That’s what people did to comfort others, right? Tubbo stiffened, and Tommy patted his back a bit before pulling away.

“Yes. Dead. My brother’s dead. I don’t really… wanna talk about it. Him.”

“That’s okay, man. I get it.” The two blond boys stood silently among the buzzing and the gentle breeze. It was awkward, and Tommy couldn’t think of a way to smoothly transition the conversation to leaving the island. So, he didn’t. 

“I need to leave.”

“Leave?” Tubbo’s eyes were glued to the ground.  _ Poor guy, it must be tough _ . 

“Yeah, y’know, get back to civilization? I gotta get back to my family, they’re going to be  _ so  _ proud of me when I show them the discs-”  _ Oh, spirits, the discs _ . 

Tubbo snapped out of his trance and smiled mischievously. Cutting Tommy off before he was able to say anything more, he said, “Don’t worry. I have them.” 

“Can I have them back? Please? They’re my own belongings. I got them fair and- I mean they’re mine!” Tommy pleaded. 

“Mmm, I don’t think I will.” 

“Wait what? Why?!”

“Because I have a deal for you.” Tubbo’s smile widened to the unsettling degree it had been earlier. His golden hair floated in the crisp spring air as he skipped back up the spine of the island to the house. Tommy stood in confusion. 

_ What’s his problem?  _

He jogged after him, focusing on his retreating back. After a while his eyes fixed on the fluttering sleeves of Tubbo’s large green shirt. There was a slight puff to them like the fashion nobles had abandoned years ago. 

Tommy remembered going to a parade when he was younger. George had forced him to wear nice clothes with similarly puffy sleeves, so he was already unhappy. The only thing that made it better was getting to sit on Sapnap’s shoulders and laugh at all the silly clothes. That and the sweet berry tarts that stained his clothes. 

_ What are they going to say when I get back? _

Tommy could already hear George’s angry voice. Bad would  _ definitely _ be disappointed, but that wasn’t new. Maybe Fundy and Skeppy would be proud? Sapnap was the wild card. Sure, he was the biggest, most enthusiastic proponent of destruction and arson Tommy knew, but there was that side of him that cared deeply. The bandages he always kept in his pocket, the extra waterskin, and the sturdy arm that always kept Tommy from falling over. How would  _ that  _ Sapnap react to his escapades? 

He’d cross that bridge when he got to it. He had to get off this island first. And that meant negotiating with the weird kid that lived on it. 

Back at the house, Tubbo was rummaging through boxes that had been slid out from under the bed. Tommy peeked his head in, hoping to spot the discs in the midst of all the blankets and old toys, but he had no such luck. 

“What are you looking for?” Tommy asked. Tubbo didn’t look up, he kept digging, now sifting through a box of papers. Each was filled with smudged pencil marks, making some almost unreadable. Finally, at the bottom of the crate, he found something. 

Smiling again, Tubbo held a yellowed piece of paper above his head and exclaimed, “Got it!” 

“What is it?” he asked as Tubbo tiptoed out of the mess of boxes into the main room, paper still aloft. 

“A map! I can’t read, but it should be right.” Tubbo held it up in the light of the window and beamed at him. Tommy snatched it out of his hands and looked at it. It was a very rough drawing of the outline of the lake and the surrounding forest. There were some small notes and a compass rose, all in the same handwriting as the mountain of writing in the other room. 

“Did you make this?” 

“Me? No, my umm…”  _ Right, dead brother.  _

“Don’t worry about it, I’m sure it’s accurate.” 

There were a couple of landmarks Tommy recognized, like the cliffs he fell off that morning (humorously marked with an angry face and a note saying  _ Don’t you  _ dare  _ go here _ ), and the arrow pointing toward Lantis City seemed to be the correct direction. He looked up from the faded paper and found Tubbo’s blue eyes boring holes into his skull. 

“What?” Tommy felt uncomfortable. 

“If you promise to take me to the glowing bees, I’ll return the discs.”

“Glowing bees? Tubbo-”

“I know you think I’m crazy, but I promise I’m not! They’re real, okay? I already proved it to…” He bit his lip and looked away. The earnestness in his voice faded to… sorrow? Resignation? “My brother believed in me.” 

Tommy sighed and looked back at the map. It wasn’t very detailed, but he bet he could use it to get back to his family’s hideout. He was hesitant to bring Tubbo along in his escape, even more so in bringing him to the “glowing bees”. According to Tubbo’s earlier rambles, he believed the bees appeared in the east where the capital city was.

_ Great.  _ Tommy squirmed at the thought of heading  _ towards _ the patrols of guards who probably wanted his head for that stunt he pulled that morning. 

Going there, especially with a strange teenager who tied him up just a while ago, was on the bottom of things he wanted to do.  _ But the discs…  _

He narrowed his eyes at Tubbo and was met with hopeful, sparkling eyes in return. Eyes that looked too innocent for the boy who Tommy knew was far more mischievous and sly.

But then again, maybe he  _ should  _ help. After all, this boy was a victim, just like him. Tubbo clearly wanted to leave but hadn't done so, probably because he didn’t know how to read maps or was alone. 

Was it really Tubbo’s fault to want to escape this island with Tommy, even going to the lengths of using the discs as leverage? Tommy had done the same thing once when he pressured Bad into giving him more sweets in return for not telling the others the horrible word that had escaped his lips in Tommy’s presence that day. 

Besides, Tommy had no possible way or idea on how to even escape the island. Tubbo’s assumption earlier was wrong, he  _ could _ swim. Just barely… and quite terribly. In his defense, falling from a cliff and plummeting into the water didn’t really help. 

On the other hand, Tubbo was better at swimming, if his story of pulling Tommy to shore was correct. Additionally, he had been on this island for much longer and would be the one to know any possible ways to leave this island.

And as for the discs… Tommy smiled inwardly. Well, once they left the island, there was no guarantee that they would stay together. He needed those discs to show off to the bounty hunters then return them to the castle and pray for forgiveness. Without the discs, he would face the full-on brunt of his punishments (and he would like to live, thank you very much).

So if there was a little accident or if Tommy’s hands got a bit too grabby at night time, then who was to blame? But first, they had to get off this island.

“... If you have an idea on how to get out of this island without drowning then fine. I’ll take you to the glowing bees,” Tommy said, still frowning to hide the smile dying to escape. 

Tubbo remained silent for a while before nodding. “That’s fair. I- I might have an idea that might work. It’s not guaranteed though. Follow me.” 

Rolling his eyes, Tommy once again followed Tubbo, this time out of the house and near a portion of the island where the few trees and shrubbery grew. The other boy looked around nervously despite no one else being nearby before kneeling before a bundle of bushes. 

With nimble hands, Tubbo casually picked up an entire bush with ease and tossed it aside. Tommy was shocked before he realized the roots were already unrooted. Tubbo continued to shove away some mud and rocks from the ground until bits of smooth wood was revealed. Tommy watched in fascination as more of the plank was uncovered until the smooth, flat surface was clear.

The boy stood up from the muddy ground and crouched before beginning to pull the wooden object. Out from the ground erupted a large, flat board of wood that was  _ much _ longer than Tubbo was tall. 

_ How was he even lifting all of that?! _

When the last of the wood was pulled away from the ground, Tubbo dropped it ungracefully onto the ground and beamed. He wasn’t even out of breath. “This is the paddleboard that I made!” He exclaimed. “I’ve tested it out before and it floats even with my weight! Don’t know about you too, but it  _ should  _ be fine.”

Tommy remained dumbfounded for a few seconds before he processed Tubbo’s words. “Hey!” he shouted. “Are you calling me fat?!” But even he couldn’t remain angry at the other boy. The wooden paddleboard was quite impressive. 

Despite the few bumps and slight protrusions, the paddleboard looked very similar to the ones he had seen at the coast by Lantis. Making one by scratch was no easy feat. He hated to admit it, but this deserved at least some respect.

Tubbo snickered at his comment before frowning. “The only thing we need is a paddle.” The pensive look on his face made Tommy pause. 

“Do you not have an oar?” He questioned. Cancel any respect, making a paddleboard without a paddle was just pointless. 

Tubbo shook his head. “No no! I do have one. Kind of. It wasn’t meant for this paddle board and is a bit problematic… but it should work. It’s back in the house.”

He groaned and fell to the ground. “I’m not gonna follow you across this island again- you go get it.” Tommy waved off Tubbo and to his surprise, the other boy just shrugged before leaving. Now alone, Tommy sighed and laid on his back.

The rocks embedded in the soil poked at his ribs. He sighed. The white vest he was wearing over his red shirt probably wouldn’t survive this adventure. It was already stained from falling into the bush outside the castle walls and his dip in the lake had done nothing to wash the crimson stains away. Now he was laying in dirt with only the sparsest of grass to shield his vest from it. The earth was damp and slowly cradled his body as he looked up at the sky. 

The same winds that chilled him at the top of the castle moved the cotton-like clouds across the blue expanse that was reflected in the seemingly endless lake. Tommy tried to clear his mind, to focus on only the scenery around him, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t stop thinking. And with the morning he had had, there were a plethora of topics to contemplate. 

“Here it is!” Way too soon, Tommy heard Tubbo’s voice called out and lethargically sat up. The other boy proudly wielded the oar. It was… less impressive than the paddleboard, with more bumps and malformations visible. The oar was bigger than any oar he had ever seen, too clunky and bulky to be efficient. But it would do.

Together, the two boys lifted the paddleboard over to the shore. Tommy tried to not let a single sign of struggle show, pretending that his arms didn’t ache from the weight or how he was out of breath. Tubbo continued to hold the wood with ease, even with the pack and enchanted bow strapped on his back and humming a tune. Tommy’s pride wouldn’t let him be outdone.

When the two reached the shore, Tommy extended his hand towards Tubbo. The other boy only tilted his head in confusion. He sighed and gestured to the oar.

“Hello? Give me the oar and let’s go,” Tommy demanded.

Tubbo’s eyes widened before he held the oar closer to his chest. “Well I was the one who made the board and oar… do you even know how to use a paddleboard?” He asked.

Well… no, he didn't. But it was just a simple board and paddle.

_ How hard could it be? _

He just continued to hold his hand out, still waiting for the oar. Tubbo just groaned and handed the oar over, muttering under his breath almost too quietly for Tommy to hear.

“Just like-... brother-.”

Tubbo let go of the oar on top of Tommy’s palm… only for it to plummet to the ground, yanking Tommy’s arm and upper body down with it.

The oar was _ heavy _ , and he couldn’t even fathom holding it up with both hands, especially not one. The crippling weight pushed his hand down, and his body that was connected to it followed, slamming against the rocky ground.

_ What the fuck? _

Okay, Tommy couldn’t ignore it anymore. Tubbo was strong,  _ ridiculously  _ so. Not only did he lift the entire board with ease, but he carried this monstrosity of an oar around for so long without complaining. Heck, he was certain he didn’t even need Tommy’s help to lift the board to shore. What was wrong with that boy?!

Finally deciding to use some common sense, Tommy let go of the oar and nervously laughed. “Well, then again, I would always welcome less work so you could use the oar. Haha!”. It wasn’t because Tommy could not even begin to lift the oar. And it  _ definitely _ was not because he was slightly scared of this inhuman boy.

The boys boarded and carefully balanced their supplies across the narrow surface above the water. The paddleboard dipped in and out of the water, undulating with the small waves of the lake. Tubbo stood on one end paddling and it was Tommy’s job to sit on the other end and hold the bag and bow. When he got bored of running his free hand through the water, he peeked inside. The discs weren’t there, just food and a knife hidden among some blankets.

“Umm… Tubbo? Where are the discs?” Tommy asked.

“Hm? Well, of course I left them hidden on the island. Did you think I would bring them with us? I’ll give it back once I get to see the bees.” Tubbo responded absentmindedly.

_ Great _ .

Overall, the trip across the lake went perfectly fine, if not a little boringly.

“... Can I stand up?”

“Tommy, no. We  _ will  _ fall.”

“...I’m standing up.”

“ToMMY NO-”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all! We are SO sorry we missed last week's update. The holidays and the start of classes really took up a lot of time and we couldn't write as much as we wanted to. However, we are now back on schedule and if the writing gods allow it, we might be able to add in an extra chapter in between Saturdays to make up for the late one. Anyway, hope you enjoy! Like always please comment below! We absolutely ADORE the theories y'all give and we can't wait to write more! Especially now that Tubbo and Tommy have met!


	9. Monsters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tubbo wanted to run, he had to _move_. But even when the zombie was getting closer and closer, his feet refused to budge. Tears began to cloud his eyes as he stared at the dripping greenish-gray flesh and specks of dried blood as dark as the night sky. Move move _move_.
> 
> _I want to move. I want to go back home-_

Tubbo didn’t mind being wet. He went swimming all the time. But the sun was setting, taking the warmth of the day with it. And Tubbo hated being cold. 

His clothes were soggy. So was all the food he brought, except the bottled honey. The string on his enchanted bow hopefully wasn’t too damaged. He hardly had any money to pay for repairs. Tubbo felt so… irritated. He didn’t take very long to pack, but he still put in more effort than  _ laying in the dirt _ . 

“This is your fault,” he said towards Tommy’s back. They had finally reached the end of the lake and had the foresight to at least store the paddleboard off to the side. After all, they had to traverse back to the house to get the discs.

Despite Tommy’s bafflement and questions, Tubbo refused to let go of the oar and decided to carry it along with the journey. He could tell Tommy was doubting if he could carry the heavy piece of wood along with the other supplies. Not to mention that it was a literal oar.

But while it was unwieldy and cumbersome, it was also sturdy and  _ heavy _ . A swing would hit and it would hit  _ hard _ . Not exactly a conventional weapon, but it was something Tubbo refused to let go of.

As of now, the two teens were trying to find a path through the thickets that grew up right on the lake’s shore. 

Tommy looked back at him and raised his eyebrow. “Uh, yeah. Obviously.” 

“You’re not going to say sorry?” Tubbo stared at the other boy in surprise and irritation. 

Tommy turned back to his battle with the bushes. “Hmmm. No.”

“You’re so rude.” Tubbo was appalled at his manners. Dream always told him to be polite, even if it was just the two of them. Maybe the outside world was just different, much more… crude. But his brother had learned everything from his travels outside and taught it all to him. Tubbo trusted his kind, responsible brother more than this  _ ruffian _ .

“Hey! You’ve only known me for what? Less than a day? You’re really going to judge someone after knowing them for a couple hours?” Tommy dramatically retorted back.   


Ducking under a low branch, Tubbo said, “I’m not saying you’re a rude person, but your actions certainly haven’t been very nice!” He didn't say outright that  _ yes _ he believed Tommy was rude. He had more tact than that. Same could obviously not be said for the other.

“Oh yeah? Name every bad thing I’ve done today,” challenged Tommy.  _ Big mistake _ .

“Well, you didn’t help me pack-”

“I fell off a cliff today, give me a break!”

“And you didn’t tell me your name until we were halfway across the lake-”

“You didn’t ask!” 

“And then you stood up on the paddleboard  _ when I told you not to! _ And now I’m wet and cold and the food is ruined! You’re lucky those discs weren’t in the bag because they probably would’ve gotten ruined too.” 

“Yeah, okay. That’s my bad- but only slightly. Can we move past that now? It’s going to be dark soon.” Tommy let out a nervous laugh before obviously looking away and pointing to the sky. If Tubbo wasn’t so worried about the dark, he wouldn’t have let Tommy off the hook so easily. But this would be his first night away from the island,  _ away from home _ , in his entire life.

“Well, if you hadn’t plunged the matches in the lake, we could have some fire to ward off all the monsters.” He muttered nervously, itching to start a fire or at least make some torches. He ignored the part of him that screamed to go back.

“You know that doesn’t work, right?” 

“What?”

“It helps keep the spirits away, yes, but light doesn’t scare them away. If anything, it just makes you look like a beacon for them.” Tommy said nonchalantly. He continued walking as if this was basic knowledge. It probably was for anyone who hadn’t been cloistered away. Tubbo frowned and continued to follow, anxious of the forest that rapidly grew dimmer and darker around them.

“Oh, I… I didn’t know. I haven’t really been off the island in uh… years, I think.” It wasn’t a lie. Just that the years basically equated to his entire life. At least what he could remember, and he had a pretty good memory.

“Sucks for you,” chirped Tommy.

_ What an ass _ . Tubbo hesitated, remembering Dream’s scolds on cursing, and amended his words.  _ What a jerk _ . 

That was better.

“Again the  _ rudeness _ .” Tubbo bit out saltily, even when he knew it was fruitless. Not that Tommy’s attitude was particularly bad (okay it was) but he was raised in Dream’s standards. But maybe it was just Dream who was a big stiff. Tubbo dreaded to see how other people were like, and jokingly wondered if it was too late to turn back.

“Blame my family… except for Bad, of course. I  _ swear  _ he’s never done anything remotely naughty on purpose.” The other boy laughed, clearly reminiscing over something that completely flew over Tubbo’s head. If he didn’t know any better, that laugh sounded a bit… sad.

“Family?” It hadn’t occurred to Tubbo that other people had families too… Then again, while he had daydreamed a lot about the outside world, he hadn’t thought much about the  _ people  _ that must fill it. So what if bees had slightly more priority than humans? Could anyone really blame him?

“Yeah, I don’t think you’d like them if you can’t stand me,” Tommy said. Tubbo felt guilty at that. The first person he met other than his brother in his whole life and he butchered up their first, second, and entire impression. Maybe it was his lack of social skills or knowledge in general, but he might’ve treated Tommy a bit too unfairly. He tied the boy up for goodness sake, even if it was a smart move that his brother would endorse.

_ That’s a lie. Your brother told you to run from strangers- _

Tubbo might have been a bit too mean to Tommy. Then he feels the slosh of his wet socks and the cold, damp clothes on his back and frowns. Okay, he was a  _ little _ justified.

“I  _ can  _ stand you, you’re just a bit annoying,” he said. Tommy started walking faster, his long legs carried him much farther than Tubbo’s did. Grabbing the bag with one hand and hoping the bow wouldn’t fall, Tubbo tried to sprint to catch him. Huffing and puffing, he finally caught up to him and put his hand on Tommy’s shoulder. 

“At least I’m not clingy,” said Tommy, barreling through the ever dimming forest as fast as he could. 

Tubbo almost tripped over a root. His hand tightened as he cried, “I’m not clingy!”

“Really? Says the one grabbing my shirt?” yelled Tommy, shrugging his shoulders in an attempt to shake Tubbo’s hand. 

“You’re moving too fast!”

“You’re too slow! We’ve got to find shelter before the monsters come!” As he yelled, Tommy stopped in his tracks, causing Tubbo to slam into his back. 

“Do you hear that?” he whispered. Tubbo shook his head. He hadn’t heard anything other than their conversation and the sound of crunching leaves and twigs beneath their feet. Now they were still, not moving, not speaking. 

And Tubbo could still hear the leaves crunching under feet. 

Tommy looked back at Tubbo with wide eyes and a finger over his lips. They were surrounded by massive trees and dense underbrush. The last vestiges of the day tried their best to let the boys see, but the canopy blocked what little light the sun gave. The two of them stood there, trying to be quiet, trying not to breathe too loudly. 

A small breeze danced past. It didn’t rustle the branches above them, only skirted around their ankles.  _ That must be a spirit _ , Tubbo thought. 

“Be quiet,” Tommy whispered, “If they don’t see or hear us, we’ll be fine.” Tubbo nodded. He could be quiet. 

“What kind of spirit do you think that was?”

Tommy shushed him. “I’d rather not find out.”

The sun was gone. Only the moon and stars watched the two lost boys in the woods now. In the moonlight, Tubbo thought he saw a tangle of vines move. 

A hissing sound rattled the air. A creature, a mess of foliage and vines, crept out from behind the bushes. It had no real face, only gaping holes where a black, dusty mist seeped in the air. Four leg-like growths pulled its tall body across the forest floor.  _ A creeper _ .

Tubbo inhaled sharply. The creeper turned its “head”. Sparks, like lightning, danced in the creature’s foggy breath as it’s whole body began to flicker and convulse. Tommy grabbed Tubbo’s hand. 

“ _ RUN! _ ”

Dragging Tubbo behind him, Tommy rushed away from the hissing monster. Tubbo felt the sharp leaves and thorns tear at his damp shirt and pants. Tommy wasn’t as covered up as he was, his arms were exposed to all of the stinging barbs.  _ He must be getting hurt, right? _

What could a lump of vines do that would be worth sprinting through a thicket of thorns? 

A loud boom, like thunder, echoed off of the nearby mountains. Tubbo felt rocks and clumps of soil strike his back then tumble to the ground. Leaves, torn and burning on the edges, fluttered down from the sky.  _ Oh. That’s what.  _

Tubbo looked back. He couldn’t see much in the darkness, save a hole in the tree line and a plume of smoke obscuring the stars. The explosion left a ringing in his ears. 

He looked back and branches whipped and scratched his face and arms as they ran through the forest. He thought he saw blood trickle down the arm Tommy was using to keep hold of him. The ringing in his ears stopped, and for a second he could hear only four feet crushing the underbrush of the forest. But now there were more. 

Tubbo ran even faster.

From behind dense trees, he spotted a clearing. The moonlight made the grass shimmer with a silver glow. Tommy must have seen it too because he started dragging Tubbo in that direction. He understood why. Being able to see everything around them at a distance would be good, especially because of how well the monsters could sense them. 

The two of them reached the clearing and Tommy let go of his hand. The grass was low, only about to their mid calves. The wildflowers were all tucked up, like they were sleeping through the night.  _ I should be sleeping too.  _

Tubbo’s breaths stayed quick and his fingers twitched at his sides. Something inside him told him this wasn’t right. They needed to run, not just  _ stand  _ here. 

“Man that was crazy! Green bastard really tried its best, huh?” Tommy commented nonchalantly, and Tubbo stared. Tommy looked fine. Yes, his white vest was stained beyond all hope, but his arms didn’t seem too beat up and his face was beaming in the darkness. 

“Can you take things seriously for once?!” Tubbo screamed at him. “We almost died!” He clutched Tommy’s vest and pulled him closer. Tommy’s eyes were wide as he looked down. He was silent for a moment before his eyes lit up in realization. With a roll of his eyes, he pushed off Tubbo’s hands and turned around

“You don’t know much about monsters and spirits, right? I forgot.” Tubbo swore he saw the corners of Tommy’s lips tug upwards. “It’s fine, man! They’re really not that dangerous, trust me. Here, look.” 

A corpse, half-naked and decaying, ambled out of the trees. Its posture sagged like its back was no longer strong enough to support its skull. It had no eyes, only empty sockets that glowed with a faint green light. From its shriveled lips escaped a soft moan. 

Tubbo choked in surprise and tried reaching towards Tommy to drag him away and run, but Tommy confidently strutted towards the danger. 

“Tommy, get back here!” He whispered as loudly as he could, not wanting to attract more of the undead, but he ignored him. With a dismissive wave, Tommy casually stood in front of the zombie without any weapons or armor.

_ He’s crazy _ .

Only when Tommy was an arms reach from the zombie did Tubbo move. He didn’t want him to die, no matter how much of an idiot he was. He sprinted forward, hoping to grab the red collar of his shirt. 

Before Tubbo could even pull Tommy back, the undead creature lunged at the tall boy. An unhinged jaw barely held together with decaying sinew aimed to rip apart Tommy’s face. A mere breath’s distance away, Tommy ducked and slipped under the zombie’s swinging arms, his lanky body almost folding in half as he fluidly danced around. And he was  _ smiling _ . 

“See? These idiots are slow and sluggish, you could dance miles around them!” Tommy laughed in glee and did exactly that. The zombie continued to swing wildly, movements erratic and stilted with the sole purpose to kill. He ducked under a disfigured fist, the nails of which were yellowed and large. It was slow, but persistent, like a disease that waited in the back corners of a body until finally corrupting all essential flesh. 

Tubbo stared in awe, even as he backed away from the scene in fear. It really did look like a dance, too graceful for something so fatal. Too distracted by the sight, he realized too late that Tommy was leading the zombie closer and closer to where he stood. 

“Your turn, big man!” Tommy said gleefully as he shifted to his side to avoid another lunge, the zombie’s bite just missing his ear. Tommy was suddenly in front of him, instead of the wide gap Tubbo had created for his safety. The zombie was right behind him and didn’t change course when Tommy darted away, leaving Tubbo right in its path. 

“If you can’t handle a simple zombie, then you should just turn back now and go home.”

“Tommy,  _ wait- _ ” Tubbo shrieked as the zombie inched closer to him. He could hear its hollow breaths scraping against the husk that remained of its mouth. It didn’t seem to notice that it was now hunting a different person, but why should it? What was the difference between two warm, alive bodies to a bloodthirsty monster? 

Tubbo wanted to run, he had to  _ move _ . But even when the zombie was getting closer and closer, his feet refused to budge. Tears began to cloud his eyes as he stared at the dripping greenish-gray flesh and specks of dried blood as dark as the night sky. Move move  _ move _ .

_ I want to move. I want to go back home- _

Tubbo was yanked backward by a pull on his collar and he screamed, thinking it was another zombie or monster that managed to sneak up on him. His arms jerked around in fear, trying to hit whatever was behind him. But a hand clamped down around his striking arm and he almost screamed when another hand covered his mouth.

“Oh my spirits, Tubbo calm down, you baby! Sheesh you’re kinda sad.” Tubbo never thought he’d be so relieved to hear Tommy’s voice. 

With a sigh, Tommy pushed Tubbo behind him and faced the lunging zombie before he turned slightly and landed a direct kick on the zombie’s side. The decayed, brittle bones broke easily under the force and the rotten flesh clung to the sole of his shoe, much to Tommy’s obvious dismay. The zombie stumbled backwards and onto the ground before slowly standing back up, undeterred in its chase, but walking with its spine bent at almost ninety degrees.

Tommy was ecstatic as he waltzed back over to Tubbo’s cowering frame. 

“Did you see that?!” he said, “That was actually so cool! Didn’t expect that to go that well- I mean. Just wait for me to beat this thing senseless and let’s go on alright? That is, if you still want to.” And with that venom packed into the last sentence, Tommy ran back towards the zombie with a laugh as he continued to land kicks and avoid any attacks from the monster. He tried to punch once, but winced at the thick substance of rotten blood stuck to his knuckles and resorted to kicks only.

Tubbo stood back and once more watched Tommy do his fatal dance. The bitter acid of feeling useless mixed terribly with the fear settled in his bones. Even then he couldn’t stop shaking. He was so  _ useless _ . He didn’t know anything about the outside world and it was painfully clear. 

_ Tubbo was useless _ .

He wasn’t a fighter, not at all. Tubbo did chores and worked with his bees. His brief attempts at sword fighting was briefly lived and he didn’t even  _ have  _ a sword. Neither did Tommy, but he was faring just fine. All Tubbo had was a knife in his pack and his bow-

His bow.

With slow and very hesitant movements, Tubbo put down his oar and slipped the bow over his shoulder. Hopefully, it was still usable. The string was still tight and the wooden shaft wasn’t broken from being dragged through a forest. He could do this. He drew the bowstring back with no arrow and breathed in. The bow’s enchantment activated and a shimmering silhouette of an arrow materialized in the proper place. 

And what if he missed the zombie?  _ What if I hit Tommy _ ? 

As he watched the two dance in the moonlight, so close to each other but not close enough, he decided it was too much of a risk. Tubbo lowered his bow and let the white arrow melt back into the waves of violet magic. He stood sullenly in the meadow. 

_ Useless.  _

The way Tommy moved, his stance, and the way he kept checking over his shoulder to look at him, reminded Tubbo of Dream. Even their messy hair looked similar. It had the same fluffiness to it and in the dark, Tommy’s blond hair was darkened to the right color. And then there was the most striking similarity. Their fighting. 

Tommy landed a punch on the zombie’s lowered head when it got too close and a chunk of limp hair and skin was sent flying to the ground. The exposed skull seemed to glow like a small chunk of the moon above. He scowled, disgusted. How many times had Dream made that face when Tubbo had annoyed him too much? He needed more fingers and toes to count on. Would he make that face again when Tubbo returned from his little adventure? 

Dream was right. He wasn’t ready yet. He should’ve  _ waited _ . Tubbo couldn’t even handle a zombie which, according to Tommy, was something so  _ simple _ . And based on the way Tommy handled it with ease, it probably was true. 

Maybe Tommy was right. Maybe he should just go home. 

Tubbo bit his lip.  _ Useless. _

Tommy finally killed the zombie. The decaying head rolled off its shoulders with a swift kick. A green mist wafted into the air and followed Tommy as he jogged back to where Tubbo was standing. 

“See, easy,” Tommy said. Tubbo didn’t meet his eyes. What was that mist doing? It was snaking around Tommy’s leg, wanting to squeeze tight around it, but it had no body with which to do so. 

“What are you looking at? Did I get zombie guts on my trousers? Damn, all my clothes are going to be ruined at this rate.” 

“What is it doing?” 

“The spirit?”

“Yeah…”

“I don’t know, man. They’re weird. They all seem to want to kill you or leave you all messed up,” Tommy said. He lowered his voice, finally. Tubbo thought he had been much too loud. “I should know, a couple of my friends are all sorts of crazy.” 

“Tommy.”

“Yeah?” Tommy shooed the spirit. It slinked away into the silvery grasses. 

“Thanks for taking that zombie out. I’m sorry I’ve been useless.”

“It’s no big deal. Really, it was a piece of cake.”

“Maybe I  _ should  _ head back.”

“Yeah, maybe we should,” Tommy said. Tubbo missed his faint smile. “Don’t feel bad, man. Not everyone is cut out for this kind of stuff.”

“Should we go back now or find somewhere to spend the night?”

“Let’s go back now. You’re too much of a scaredy cat and dead weight to camp out so making a run for it would be better.”

“I- I guess.” Was this it? Was this really how his first adventure off of the island would end? It wasn’t even really an  _ adventure _ , it was just one night away from home.

“It’s alright man! I really tried to help you, but it’s not my fault you’re chickening out. So let’s just go back to the island and we’ll part our different ways.” Tommy said casually. He took a quick check on the map before facing a random direction. In an act of kindness, he took the bag from him and slipped it over his own shoulders. He then bent down to grab Tubbo’s oar on the ground and began to heave it up. Despite the obvious signs of struggle, Tommy lifted the oar towards Tubbo and gave a beaming smile.

“Besides, you can try again next year!” 

Tubbo froze. He was right. The glowing bees only came out once every year, and if he went back now he would miss it. Would he even be able to do this again next year? Dream would certainly find out he left, he knew  _ everything _ , and he would never get another chance. And even if he was able to leave again, would he be able to make the journey without help? Without Tommy?

“What? No!” Tubbo tightened his grip on his bow. He wasn’t going to shoot anything, but the subtle pulsing of the enchantment made him feel stronger. 

“No? Do you not want to go home?” Tommy’s smile disappeared into a frown.

Tubbo took a deep breath before saying, “I won’t go home until I see the bees, that was the deal.”

“Wait but-” Tommy shrieked. 

At the same time as his shrill yelp escaped his lips, a black feathered arrow whizzed in between their faces, almost scraping the tip of Tommy’s nose. Tubbo flinched and glanced at his left towards the trees. 

Tall and slender, a pale figure stood under a tree. Like the zombie, it had no eyes, only green mist spewing out from its sockets. The thin bones of its hands were wrapped around an ancient bow. Arrows poked out from its hollow ribs. A hand reached in and grabbed one, like taking a book off of a shelf. The skeleton took aim again. 

“Tubbo, let’s go!” Tommy started backing away. For once, Tubbo didn’t follow. 

But his feet weren’t frozen. This time, it was his choice.

Breathing deeply again, Tubbo summoned a glowing arrow on his bow. He could shoot. He learned how. He wouldn’t let the word “useless” besiege his thoughts again. 

He let the arrow loose. 

The skeleton’s skull cracked, sending splinters of bone into the air as it fell from its vertebrae.

_ Who was useless now? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya y'all! We mentioned this in another chapter and you might've already realized but Wax and I are going back to updating every two weeks. It sucks we know, but life is hella busy and tiring. Besides, this fic is our precious baby and we want to make sure it's something we can be proud of. Anyways, more Tubbo and Tommy interactions because that's what we promised haha! Also, more world-building courtesy of Wax so if you have questions ask her. Hope you enjoyed the chapter and look forward to the next one. (Also if you wanna read something in the meanwhile maybe check out our other fics -cough selfless promotion-)


	10. Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Listen, kid- sorry, what’s your name? You can call me Puffy.” She gave a gentle smile even when his face became warier.
> 
> What was he supposed to tell her? I am His Royal Highness, Crown Prince Clay of Lantis? The chants in the flames roared again in his head. 
> 
> “I’m Dream.” Lie. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Interlude 2 - Nightmare
> 
> Another interlude written by Waxflowerwoes!

A prince wasn’t supposed to be running with bare feet. He wasn’t supposed to have old bandages covering half of his face. And he certainly wasn’t supposed to be carrying a baby under a ripped up cloak. 

Tubbo was asleep, thankfully. He had screamed almost the entire night, but no one had noticed another crying child in the streets of a burning city. His small breaths tickled Clay’s chest like feathers. He didn’t mind. It was comforting, and a wonderful distraction from the searing burns on his face and neck. If he could just focus on this little boy, this perfect angel in his arms, maybe he could get through this. 

The cobblestones of the streets were not as smooth as they looked. There were bits of gravel hiding in their long shadows and jagged edges that looked soft. His shoes had made it out of the burning castle, but they were too noticeable for him to keep. The gilded toes and fine leather were too flashy for someone who had narrowly escaped assassination. 

Assassination. That was what last night was, right? Why else would there be bombs placed under a castle full of children and riots forming in the streets? Despite his elder brothers, he  _ was _ the Crown Prince, rightful heir of their father, and the true king of Lantis. Someone had wanted him dead so that one of those bastards (legally, that’s what they were) would get the crown. Whether the assassins wanted Phil or Techno, Clay didn’t know. It didn’t matter to him. All that mattered was that they took something from him. 

They took his power. They wrested him from his home, into a mob of enemies with torches and swords, chanting, yelling, screaming. If he hadn’t died to Techno’s sword, or the explosion and the rubble, he would have died in the mob. Except they were looking for a proud prince, one of the best fighters ( _ no, the best _ ) in the kingdom, not a burned teenager carrying a baby. 

Tubbo had saved him. 

Clay tightened his grip on his little half-brother. He lost so much last night, he wouldn’t lose him too. A strange mix of anger and mourning bubbled in his chest. It felt like chugging a fire resistance potion. If only he had thought to do that before the fight…

His muscles ached. His legs felt like hunks of iron as he dragged them across the road. He was at the outskirts of the city now, the cobbled streets giving way to gravel. Every step made him wince. He just had to make it out of the city, then he could figure out what to do. Many eyes watched him as he limped along, but he wasn’t special. There were many leaving the smoking ruins. 

Was it selfish for him to leave? He didn’t know if the fires were put out or if the instigators were still terrorizing the good people in his city. He almost felt bad for leaving when he didn’t know if his other brothers were okay, but the chants of “ _ DOWN WITH PRINCE CLAY _ ” last night were stuck in his head. 

Stupid peasants. The kingdom was his  _ birthright _ . It wasn’t up to them to decide who became king.  _ His  _ great grandfather had created Lantis with his bare hands. The voices of those  _ ants  _ shouldn’t matter. Clay was better than them. He was better than  _ all of them _ . That included Phil, Wilbur, Techno, and… 

And Tubbo. 

Something wasn’t right. Everything fit so perfectly. The line between friends and enemies was so clear. Except Tubbo. The one outlier. And what a sweet outlier he was. 

Again, the roads changed. The cuts on his feet screamed as they filled with the fine dirt of the paths leading into the wilds and farmlands of Lantis. He looked back at the city of the same name. His home… 

He would come back. One day. 

~~~

The sun was  _ hot _ . Clay never thought he would miss the servants bustling around him, shading his face and shining his shoes. Oh, what he would do for even worn-out slippers. But shade? He could do something about that. 

There was a copse of young trees just off the road-  _ no _ , path. He had long since abandoned civilization. He laid down in the soft grass. It was the first time his feet had rested in hours.

Clay felt fire in so many places in so many different ways. His feet burned with exhaustion and he hated to look at the angry red cuts on the soles. The sparks of the fire still seemed to live under the skin of his face, and not even the weeping of his skin under the makeshift bandages seemed to put it out. And then of course, his heart.  _ How  _ dare _ they… _

The flames quieted just long enough to allow his eyes to rest. The cool wind coming from the nearby ocean was a blessing. 

But his nightmares? Not so much. 

He was back in the castle, sword in hand. He preferred fighting with an axe, as it favored his strength, but he didn’t really have a choice. That one duke who always hovered over his mother’s shoulder liked spectacles, and the enchanted diamond sword certainly was flashy. 

He didn’t feel the hand on his shoulder, this was a dream, but he knew it was there. He could hear his mother’s words in his ear, whispering threats masked with praise, like her sharp nails were disguised with paint and jewels. 

_ Kill him. _ But he didn’t  _ want  _ to. Techno… Technoblade was his  _ brother _ . They shared their toys and threw their food at each other when they were young. They trained and read books together as they grew older. They understood each other. They  _ loved _ each other. 

_ He’s trying to take your crown.  _ No, that wasn’t true. So many times did his timid pink-haired brother confide in him about his burden. Being king? Techno would rather become a peasant. 

_ I’m the only one here who loves you.  _ Why had she said that? It wasn’t true, right? But the way she said it… she was his mother. She loved him… 

He itched for armor. He felt exposed like this, but he knew why the court didn’t want the two fifteen-year-old princes to wear any. The duel would take less time if it was easier for them to kill each other. His chest felt light. 

Light. 

The sun was much lower in the sky now. His chest still felt light, outside of the dream. What was missing? He didn’t have any armor…

_ Tubbo. _

_ Where is he?! _

Ignoring his feet, he leapt up. He cursed his bandages, they obscured his vision. Where was he, where was he? He could have waddled off to anywhere, he could have fallen. Weren’t there wolves out here? And a whole host of poisonous plants and sharp rocks and foxes and, most dangerous of all,  _ people.  _ He had to get him back,  _ now. _

“Tubbo!?” he yelled. The ash he inhaled in the fire was still in his lungs, making him cough. “Tubbo, where are you?” 

He looked up and down the road, but couldn’t see any sign of him. Had he scampered off into the woods?  _ Oh, spirits, no no no,  _ no. 

“Tubbo!” Clay dove into the bushes, eyes peeled for his little brother’s bright blond hair among the sea of green leaves. His cloak caught on a branch, yanking him back. The clasp pulled at his neck, threatening to choke him because  _ of course he needed another thing trying to kill him. _ It wasn’t enough that his brother tried to kill him, it wasn’t enough that his own subjects wanted him gone, no, even his clothes were trying to slit his throat. 

He kept searching, his voice slowly dying every time he called Tubbo’s name. The forest was filled with little noises, like bugs beneath his feet and birds chirping overhead, but none of the baby babbling he would always hear from the nursery. But then again, Tubbo hadn’t been alone then… 

_ Where is he? _

The quiet sound of a river caught his attention. His feet were even rawer, and he was  _ so _ thirsty. He just needed a little rest, he needed to make sure he was strong enough in case Tubbo needed his help. He would gladly die for Tubbo, but he would prefer not to. 

The rushing water was hidden behind some low shrubs. Their tender leaves were bright and shiny from the abundance of hydration. He allowed himself a small smile. He always liked that color. The stream’s bed was lined with polished stones, almost like the ones that paved the streets of his home. He sighed. He could feel the homesickness growing in his heart, feeding off his loneliness like the plants that drank from this river. 

Wincing in pain, he placed his scuffed up feet in the cold water. It stung horribly, but at least it distracted him from the sweat dripping into the open sores of his burns. Maybe he should wash those… No. He didn’t know how to. He knew almost  _ nothing _ about first aid. Why should he? He had access to the finest potions known to civilization. Or at least he  _ did _ . 

_ Spirits, _ he thought,  _ I’m so useless. How am I ever going to take care of Tubbo, let alone  _ find  _ him _ ? 

He couldn’t do this, right? He wasn’t meant to. He was meant to rule, he was meant for so much  _ more. _ Yet he couldn’t do simple things, like find his little brother or clean his wounds. Last night, he slept in an alley in the city. How would he fare in the woods, where there was nothing between him and the monsters that terrorized humanity? He could fight well, but he had no weapons, no supplies. 

He sunk into the shallow water. Pressing his legs into his chest, he lowered his head to his knees. He didn’t want to cry, it hurt his cheek, but  _ how was he going to live? Everything was different now, and there was no way it could be like it was before. He couldn’t scream, not anymore, it hurt too much, but his head echoed with screeching anyways. Everything was wrong, and he finally lost the one thing he had managed to save from the fire.  _

_ Where is he?  _

“Are you trying to become a rock, kiddo?” said a voice up the river. Clay’s head shot up. It was a short woman in a red coat and with a pleasant smile. Large, spiraling horns sprouted from cloudlike curls. She was certainly a unique sight, but the oddness of her appearance meant little to him in comparison with what she had tucked under her arm. 

“Tubbo!” he exclaimed. The little boy giggled as he dangled from her arms, clapping his hands at the sight of his brother. 

The woman smiled and lifted Tubbo to a comfortable position on her hip. “Is this one yours?” 

Clay almost slipped on the rocks as he sloshed through the rushing water to reach them upstream. “Tubbo, where did you go? I was so worried!” 

“I found him in a meadow up the river next to some berry bushes. He must have been hungry because those bushes were picked clean,” she said. She held Tubbo out to him and Clay could see the carnage of red berries on his face. 

“Thank you so much for finding him, I’ve been looking for… well I don’t know how long, but it’s felt like days and minutes all at once.” He took Tubbo in his arms, a familiar ache returning, an ache he would never think to complain about again. With the added weight, his legs became shaky. His body started to sway. The open cuts on his feet screamed as they moved across the slick surface. A cry was choked in his throat. His face scrunched up in pain, multiplying his discomfort. He was holding Tubbo so he couldn’t use his arms for balance. His body tensed, ready for more abuse. 

A strong hand on his arm stopped his fall. He opened his eyes. The woman held on to his sleeve, saving him from yet another series of injuries. 

“Are you okay?” she asked. She led him out of the river to a section of the bank covered in soft moss. 

“I- um. That’s kind of a big question.” 

She studied him, from his greasy mop of hair to red feet shiny from the water. Clay shrank in, holding Tubbo tight. He was used to scrutiny, he was used to  _ everyone  _ looking at him. But it had never been when he was this vulnerable. After her initial sweep, her golden gaze rested on his face, flitting between the bandages struggling to cover his burns and his tired eyes. 

“I’ll answer it for you, kid. You’re  _ not  _ okay, and I’m gonna help you,” she said. 

“What? Why? You don’t know me. More importantly, I don’t know  _ you _ .” 

“Listen, kid- sorry, what’s your name? You can call me Puffy.” She gave a gentle smile even when his face became warier.

What was he supposed to tell her?  _ I am His Royal Highness, Crown Prince Clay of Lantis?  _ The chants in the flames roared again in his head. 

“I’m Dream.” **Lie**. 

“Dream. Well, you look like a nightmare.”

“Mhmm.” She wasn't wrong. He was far from the powerful royal he was only a day ago.

“Spirits, tough crowd. I guess I shouldn’t blame you though, you look like you’ve been to the Nether and back.” She fussed over his bandages and tried to hide her grimace when she saw the burns.   
  
“Yeah, it’s certainly felt like that.”   


“Are you from the capital? I saw the smoke this morning.”

He nodded. 

“Do you know what happened?” She asked.

“No, but there was an explosion somewhere that set the city on fire. I, um, I didn’t notice until it was too late.” **Lie**. 

“You didn’t want to stay in the city?” 

“No, I um… there’s nothing left for me there. Everything is gone.” **Lie**. 

“I’m really sorry about that, Dream. Do you want to come back to my house with me?” 

“I don’t know if I can…”. He stepped backward, only to slightly stumble as his bloody feet slipped on the moss. The woman held him again, making sure he didn't fall.

“You don’t trust me, I get that. It’s okay. But you really don’t want to be out in these woods at night, especially in your state,” she said, gesturing to his beaten body. 

“I guess you’re right. I don’t… I don’t have any weapons either.” **Lie**.    
  
“It’s not the lack of weapons I’m worried about.” Puffy held out her arms for Tubbo, and Dream handed him over. Tubbo squirmed a little bit, but he was slowly beginning to trust her. Dream couldn’t say the same. 

He followed her as she picked out a lightly worn path leading upstream. Slipping his hand underneath his shirt, he felt the handle of the small knife. Its sheath was attached to one of the belt loops and then tucked inside his pants. If Puffy made the  _ slightest  _ move, he was ready. 

~~~

Puffy lived in a small cottage built in a clearing up the river. It was small, but sturdy, much like its owner. She was still carrying Tubbo and walking slowly to let Dream rest. He was grateful. Besides the nap he took when he lost Tubbo, he had been walking all day. Standing still, leaning on the fence post of the porch, felt like heaven to him. 

Puffy fumbled a key with one hand. He bent down and handed it back to her. 

“Thanks,” she said as she unlocked the door, “Welcome to my home!” 

The door swung open, revealing a cozy interior. Puffy set Tubbo down on a soft carpet to undo the gold buttons of her red coat. The wooden coat rack stood tall next to a fireplace, its embers still glowing. 

“I knew I forgot about something!” exclaimed Puffy, rushing over to fetch a bucket of water and then darting back to the smoldering remains of the fire. After dousing it with part of the contents of the bucket, she turned back to Dream and smiled. “Sorry about that! It would’ve been awkward if we had gotten here and the house had burned down, wouldn’t it?”

“Don’t worry about it, I’m used to everything burning down around me.”

Puffy raised one of her white eyebrows. She didn’t look too old, so why was her hair that color? Did it have anything to do with her horns? “You don’t have a blaze spirit, do you?” 

“No, I don’t think so.” 

“You don’t think so? I’d think you’d know if a fiery demon from hell tried to steal your body, kiddo,” she chuckled. Running a hand through her fluffy hair, she rubbed her horns. “Let's get you cleaned up, alright? Then I’ll make some dinner.” She walked into a room behind a door on the side opposite to the front door.    
  
“Thanks,” Dream whispered. He sat down on the plush carpet next to Tubbo. The young child was quiet, taking in the new place with wide blue eyes. Dream held out his hands to him and made a clicking noise to get his attention. “C’mere, buddy.”

Tubbo looked at him, confused. Dream hated he knew the reason why. He had almost  _ never _ played with him before. The time together they spent since the explosion was probably the longest they had ever spent around each other. And it was certainly the longest time they had spent alone without any of their other brothers. Tubbo  _ was  _ a twin, after all. At least he had been. Dream didn’t know what happened to the other baby, but he guessed the chances of surviving being crushed by burning rubble was slim, especially for a two-year-old. 

Tubbo most likely no longer had a twin.  Dream reached forward to grab Tubbo and placed him in his lap. 

“Wet go!” he cried. 

“Tubbo, relax, it’s me.” 

“Noooo,” he whined, “I wanna go home!” 

“We can’t, Tubbo.” Dream’s voice was low, and not just because his throat still ached. He was scared that if he said it loud enough, he might have to believe it. Despite Tubbo trying to escape his arms, Dream held on tightly and buried his nose in Tubbo’s long hair. 

That was a mistake. Tubbo headbutted his older brother in his escape attempt. Dream yelped and let go. 

“You bastard!” he said a little too loudly. 

Puffy came running from the back room with a towel tucked under her arm and snowy white bandages in hand. 

“Are you okay? What happened?” she asked. 

“I’m fine,” said Dream, “His head is just  _ really  _ hard.” 

“Oh, did he get you in the nose?” Dream’s eyes were closed, but he could hear the smile in her voice. 

“Yeah…” 

“Awww,” Puffy cooed, “He’s like a baby ram.” 

The clack of her boots on the wood floor stopped when she got to the carpeted area of the living room. 

“You can sit on the couch, you know.” Dream heard the rustling of a pillow being compressed. The sound sent him right back to yesterday morning when he had the luxury of waking up in his own bed. 

“I’m okay on the floor.” 

“Well, I’m not, and I’m ready to treat your burns now. Come sit up here with me,” commanded Puffy. The pain in Dream’s nose faded. 

“Aye aye, captain,” he sighed. He pulled himself up to the well-worn cushions of the couch. It wasn’t as plush as the ones at home, but it was better than the ground he had slept on earlier. 

Puffy got to work. The towel she brought had two small wooden boxes wrapped in it, both of which she set aside for now. Using the water from the bucket, she wiped away all of the sweat and gunk from the broken blisters. Dream closed his eyes and bit his cheek. More pain. This day was a nightmare. 

Once she finished cleaning, she opened up the first box. The cream inside was a light pink color. It sparkled faintly in the light coming from the window behind him. The sun was getting lower. 

“What is that?” he asked. 

“Just a healing cream. It’s very diluted, and even then it’s expensive as hell,” Puffy said as she dabbed a little bit of it on his cheek. “I’m only putting it on the bits where your blisters have broken right now. We can put some more on tomorrow.” 

“Thank you so much, Puffy.” 

“Don’t mention it. I wouldn’t want you to get possessed out there and leave Tubbo all alone, now would I?” After wiping her finger on the towel, she unscrewed the lid on the second box. The contents of this one were much different. It was a green gel that stuck to her finger as she smeared it on the edges of a piece of gauze. 

Dream was curious. “Would I really get possessed if I stayed out at night in the dark?” he asked. 

“Yep. Those spirits would have a party trying to take over your beat-up body. And with how sleepy you look now, I doubt you’d have the strength to resist them.” She placed the first of the bandages over the burn on his forehead, making sure to leave one side clear of slime so it wouldn’t stick to the burn that went across his eyebrow. 

“There’s a lot of creeper spirits in these woods too, and no one survives  _ those  _ possessions,” she added. 

“That’s good to know, I guess.” 

“You have to know it if you want to live out here like I do.” She seemed so confident and strong but in a pained, stoic way. Something had happened to her, hadn’t it? 

“Are there any goat spirits around?”   


Puffy smiled. “No, I’m rather special.” She looked down at her feet and tapped her toe on the carpet. 

“I like unique stories,” said Dream, and it was true, one of the few things he had told her today that wasn’t a lie. He always spent any time away from training in the library, his nose deep in the pages of the great novelists’ works. 

Puffy sniffed. “You like being nosy.” 

“Fair enough, I don’t need to know.” 

She put the other bandage on his cheek and stared at him. Their green and gold eyes came to an understanding. No prying. Not for now. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a lore-heavy and very beautifully written chapter so you KNOW it was written mostly by Waxflowerwoes hahaha! Y'all, sorry for the late chapter but man Wax's writing is truly so pretty! The majority of this is more backstory, featuring Puffy! Honestly, if the chapter is very detailed and has amazing world-building, it was written mostly by Wax. If it was action, humor, or basically anything with Tommy, it's written by NKhaotic. Together, we form one functioning writer hahahaha! Anyways, if you have questions or theories, please comment below! We might even clarify some things. Thanks for reading like always!


	11. Duckling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dream had no power. He was a prince not trusted or liked by his own supporters, presumed dead, defeated in combat, and then crushed under rubble. Could he make a triumphant return to the capital, rallying his allies for a challenge to the Crown? Perhaps. But how would that end? With even more tears than the brothers had cried in the last weeks? With wounds even more serious than burns and scratches? With more lies and whispers and distrust?
> 
> Dream didn’t have the strength. He couldn’t regain his old life. But maybe, _just maybe_ , he could make a new one. 

Dream awoke the next morning on Puffy’s couch with one of her quilts draped across his long legs. Funny. It hadn’t been there last night. 

He flinched in pain when he tried to rub his eyes. It had hardly been a whole day since his face was burned. It was still new, still fresh and tender beneath the bandages. He rolled over on the sunken cushions of the couch. What was happening? What had his life become? 

Tubbo was asleep on the carpet, also swaddled by one of Puffy’s blankets. He was so tiny, his little hands curled up underneath his face. His hair, a brighter shade than Dream’s but a lot like their oldest brother’s, was a rat’s nest of golden strands. 

Dream sat up. His feet, once placed on the ground, felt raw underneath the bandages.  _ Puffy wasn’t kidding when she said the cream was diluted. _ He remembered a month ago when he scraped his knee while sparring. The healers didn’t use creams in the castle, they let him drink full intensity healing potions. The potions were bright pink and tasted cool despite filling him with warmth when it trickled down his throat. They worked like a charm, completely healing injuries in a matter of minutes to hours. Dream wondered how much of Puffy’s cream he would have to use on his feet to achieve the same effect. Where had he seen her put it away?

Bending down from the couch so he could reach the floor without putting pressure on his feet, Dream reached for Tubbo. The little boy was light. Dream could hardly tell if the weight he felt was the boy or the thick blanket wrapped around his little body. 

He pulled his little brother in close like he did when he carried him from the city. Then Dream started to hum a familiar tune. The song was an old one, one that the nursemaids in the palace loved to sing to all the princes when they were little. It had always brought comfort to him, and he wanted the same to be said for his brother. A little piece from their lives as royalty that they might never see again.

“Little bird, little bird,” he sang, his voice still rough, “Build your nest in my tree.” 

At the sound of his singing, Tubbo began to stir. With his small hands, he rubbed his still shut eyes. 

“I swear I’ll keep my word, I swear you’ll be happy.” Dream ran his fingers through Tubbo’s hair, trying to untangle it. He was surprised how long the nursery staff had let it grow. 

“Little bird, little bird, do not fly too far away. As I tend to my herd, the sky turns dark gray.” He closed his eyes, trying to imagine sitting in one of the grand halls of his home, trying to ignore the pain he was in. The large pillars, the rich carpets, the vaulted glass ceilings, would he ever see them again? He had never played with his little brothers, and he deeply regretted that. Tubbo was awake now and squirming against Dream’s strong arms, but calmed down as he sang on. 

“Little bird, little bird, sing with me through the day.” 

Tubbo, in a scratchy little voice that had barely awoken, joined in. “A duet, skin an’ feaffer’d.”

Dream smiled and kissed his hair, suddenly feeling much stronger, much warmer. “A price so little to repay.” 

Together, the brothers sang the last verse as they basked in the sunlight streaming through the curtains of a place that was not their home, casting a glow upon their blond hair and fair skin. 

“Little bird, little bird,

“I'm sorry that you weep,

“I will defend from the buzzard,

“Your safety I will keep.” 

It was magical, that moment. Here, they were both warm. Safe. Dream felt so much better. If only the golden moment could last forever. And it could’ve if he only didn’t smell whatever was in the toddler’s pants. 

With a groan, Dream heaved his tired body up and walked to the hall he had seen Puffy disappear into last night. Just before the hall’s entrance, he peeked into another door. Barrels, sealed tight, were stacked along the far wall, a small table and chair stood in the center. The barrenness confused him at first.  _ Oh, that’s right, _ he thought,  _ It’s a kitchen.  _ It was nothing like the royal kitchen, but this wasn’t the palace in the first place. He continued on into the hall. 

Puffy had several paintings hanging on the wooden interior walls. The colors were ghastly, too bright to represent anything real save it be gems mined from deep within the earth or the pits of lava in another realm. But despite the garish hues, he could appreciate the texture and composition of the pieces. The ocean might have been purple in the frame nearest to her door, but it was an ocean nonetheless, and it reminded Dream of the afternoons he would spend in the towers of the castle, reading and watching the ships come into port. 

Balancing Tubbo ever so carefully on his hip, Dream knocked on the door. 

“Umm… Miss Puffy? I uh,” he gulped, “I need some help.” From behind the thin planks, he heard the rustling of blankets. A dull thud, like hitting an elbow on a wall, was followed by a soft curse. Moments later, the door opened to reveal a very tired Puffy in a red bathrobe, her hair even more cloudlike than the day before. 

Rubbing her eyes, she drearily asked, “What’s up kiddo?” 

“Uhhhhhh…” Dream held up Tubbo, closer to Puffy’s face. Her short nose wrinkled. 

“Hang on, I think I have some old towels in the closet you could use. There’s a tub of water in the kitchen you can wash him in while I go find them,” she said, pushing past him to another door in the hallway. 

Dream stood there in silence. “ _...you can wash him… _ ” she had said. He knew she didn’t know he was a prince. Why would she think he was above washing his little brother? Everything made sense, but he still felt off as he dunked Tubbo into the washbasin. 

The baby grinned, splashing in the water as it became dirtier. 

“Aww,” Dream cooed, grabbing some soap off of the counter. “It’s Tubbo in the tub!” Tubbo giggled and slapped his hands down, spraying Dream from several feet away. 

“Tubbo in da tub!” he laughed. 

Puffy came back, now dressed in a white blouse with old, green towels in her hands. She smiled as Tubbo continued to play in the water. Kneeling down beside the boys, she hoisted the toddler up and dried him before wrapping him in the old towel. A silver safety pin, conjured out of her pockets, kept the rag in place. 

“You’re such a cutie, aren’t you, Tubbs?” she said as he reached for her horns. She turned to Dream. 

“I’m going to make breakfast,” she said, “Do you think you can dump the water out back?” Dream nodded, so Puffy stood up, Tubbo still in her arms, to go to the fireplace in the main room. 

Taking the water out was surprisingly easy. On a normal day, of course, it would have been. It would have been trivial for a strong fighter such as Dream to dump a bucket with a diameter smaller than his outstretched arm, but considering his injuries, he still did well. His blisters had stopped weeping and the burns no longer felt as hot. His feet, mummified by yards of bandages, didn’t sting with every step he took on the grass outside of Puffy’s cottage. 

Before going inside through the back door, he noted the new plume of smoke coming from the chimney. Breakfast was cooking. But in the front room, it was not all so picturesque. 

“Oh, Tubbo, what’s wrong?” cried Puffy. She was holding a cast iron pan over the newly lit fire. Tubbo was cowering on the couch, hiding in Dream’s discarded quilt. A log popped and its snap echoed through the tiny room. Tubbo screamed. 

Dream dashed over to kneel at the couch. Removing the quilt, he found his little brother curled up, tears dripping from the hands he used to cover his eyes and knees tucked into his chest. He knew how he felt. He couldn’t deny how the sparks and the pops made his shoulders tense. It felt like he was back in his nightmare. A little plume of smoke whispered in his ear, warning him of the danger.  _ Look over your shoulder _ , it said.  _ The house is on fire, can’t you see it? Your safety is burning, your safety is burning. You need to run. Run, run, run, run, run, run. _

_ Run _

_ Run _

_ Run _

Biting his lip and closing his eyes to stifle the tears brought on by the smoke, he grabbed the crying child and ran out the door, slamming it behind him and eliciting a yelp from Puffy. He didn’t go far, the return of cool, fresh air and the peaceful sounds of the forest was enough to calm the both of them down. Tubbo still screamed into his chest, using his still filthy shirt as a tissue. He was still slightly damp from the bath. 

“Shhh,” Dream soothed. His lips found their favorite spot on his little brother’s hair. He didn’t know how to calm him down, but he tried swaying back and forth. The nursemaids had done that, right?

Almost to himself, he said, “It’s going to be okay, I promise. I promise.”

“It’s okay,” he whispered as he sunk to the ground, leaning on the rough exterior of the cottage. With shushing and rocking, Tubbo’s cries quieted to sniffles. Score one for big brother. 

Tubbo looked up at him with big blue eyes reddened by crying. Clear snot dripped from his nose and his tiny mouth quivered. 

“Where’s Tommy?” 

The question, so simple and natural, caught Dream off guard. What was he supposed to tell the two-year-old? 

“He...” he started, but couldn’t finish. 

Tubbo started crying again, beating his little fists in the air. 

“Where is he?” he cried, “I miss him!” 

“I don’t know…” Dream whispered. He looked up into the sky. On his bare arms, wrapped around the struggling child, the sun beat down. It was warm. It was spring. The scene around him was beautiful. He was safe, he hadn’t died by the blade or flame. So why did he feel so ripped up inside? 

“I don’t know…” 

Tears slipped out of his eyes. They dissolved some of the slime gluing the bandages to his face, leaving sticky, green residue in their wake. Dream didn’t try to wipe them off, instead, he rested his head on the side of the house, letting the tears drip off of his chin while Tubbo sobbed into his chest. Dream closed his eyes.

  
  
  


“Are you awake?” Puffy asked. Dream squinted in the sunlight. The sun was in a different spot. Tubbo, tuckered out from his tantrum, laid slumbering on his lap. He groaned and nodded. 

“I made omelets,” she said. He looked up at her. She held two plates, steam wafting up from both of them. “I hope you like it.” 

Dream’s stomach grumbled at the faintest scent of the food. “I’m so hungry, I’ll eat almost anything,” he said. She smiled and carefully lowered herself down to sit next to him, balancing the plates as she did so. 

One of the omelets was considerably smaller, perhaps made with only one egg. When he gave a questioning look to it, Puffy pointed to Tubbo. 

“Do you think we should wake him up and have him eat?” she whispered. 

“Maybe…” said Dream, “I don’t know. I’m not used to taking care of him…” 

Puffy nodded. “I wasn’t terribly great with little kids. The older ones made a little sense, but the babies baffled me. I was so happy when my little brother started acting older…” 

“Does it get easier?”

“Depends on what you think is easy. If diapers aren't your thing, then yes, it does get better as they get older. But then they get a mind of their own. Curiosity is a lovely thing, but it’s hard to protect them when they start doing what they want.” 

Dream took a bite of his omelet. The egg was fluffy and perfectly seasoned despite the simplicity. Best of all, the smoothness didn’t irritate his throat. After enjoying some smaller bites, his hunger got the best of him and soon the breakfast had vanished. 

“Thank you,” he said. He set the plate on the ground in between them. 

“No problem.” 

They sat in awkward silence, the two of them looking out beyond the little meadow at the sky and into the abundant forest. 

“How are your burns?” Puffy asked. 

“They’re okay. I’m feeling better.”

“Good! Let’s go back inside and I’ll change the bandages for you,” she said. She stood up and plucked Tubbo from Dream’s legs. He grabbed the plates, including the one with the uneaten omelet. 

Back in the house, he could see the aftermath of Puffy’s cooking. The pan rested against the brick fireplace, some egg still sticking to it. The fire had died down, reduced to a smoldering clump of blackened wood. The sight of it made his skin crawl.

Puffy set Tubbo down on the couch, then went to go get the medical supplies from the closet. Dream sat down beside him and lifted a foot onto his knee to start unwrapping the bandages. They had almost been made into a sock, which was good because they were also filthy from going outside. The brown parts on the sole of his foot protected the still white cloth underneath, which was faintly pink from the cream and the blood. 

As the bandage came off, Dream slowly realized that all of the scratches, so bloody and painful from even just that morning, were now nothing but small thin white scars, almost imperceptible in contrast with his pale feet. The purple bruises were gone too. Dream switched to the other foot and found the exact same thing. 

His feet were healed, leaving only scars.  _ How? _

“Puffy?” he called. 

“Yes?” she said as she poked her head back into the room. 

“My feet are healed.” 

“What?” 

“They’re fine. They aren’t bleeding, they don’t hurt. They’re healed.” 

“How did-,” she started, kneeling down on the carpet to look at them. “That cream was diluted, it shouldn’t have done this in a night- Are you sure you’re not spirited?” 

“No. Are there spirits that give you healing powers if you survive them?” 

“I’ve heard of it happening a couple of times. It’s usually plant spirits, but those possessions are rare since those spirits are so benign…” she rambled. “How did this happen?” 

“I really don’t know…”  _ And I hate not knowing.  _

Puffy frowned. She sat between the two brothers and unstuck the bandages on his face with a damp washcloth. Dream thought back to earlier that morning. When had they stopped hurting? He could feel them when he woke up, when he reached down to get Tubbo off the floor, when he started singing… And then, after that, it disappeared.  _ Did the song do it? _

“Well, if you’re feeling better, why don’t you come help me do some laundry in the river?” she said, wadding up the used cloths in her hands. 

“Sure. Should we bring Tubbo in case he wakes up?” 

“Hm. I think we should just let him sleep. I’ll lock everything up and put out the fire.” 

“Okay…” Dream was a little wary of leaving Tubbo alone… but locking everything up should keep him safe. “Do you have any shoes for me to wear?” 

Puffy laughed, kicking her feet in the air. “Are you kidding?” she asked. She put her foot next to Dream’s. It was incredibly small, the tip of her foot not even close to reaching the base of his toes. She kept giggling to herself. “A little lady living alone in the woods, of course she would have a pair of shoes to fit a giant,” she mused. 

Dream felt his cheeks warm with embarrassment. “Sorry…” 

She patted his shoulder. “Don’t be, you’ve been through a lot.” Biting her lip, she looked at the ceiling in thought. 

“Actually,” she said, “I might have  _ something _ …” 

The  _ something _ turned out to be a pair of old rain boots, the kind meant to be worn over other shoes. They were tight on Dream, not  _ quite _ his size. And best of all, they were bright yellow with the silhouette of a duck stamped on the sides. So, the tall boy followed Puffy in her red coat back to the river where they first met. 

Puffy picked out a spot on the bank near a large boulder and set the basket full of clothes down. “Here is good,” she said. 

Dream nodded and set down his own basket- full of Tubbo’s soiled clothes and soap. The river swirled lazily here, collecting in a shallow pool near the bank. The rain boots, those horrible things with no socks or ventilation, were suffocating his feet, so he ripped them off and soaked in the chilly water and the soft mud the relaxed flow of the river allowed to collect there. 

“So,” said Puffy with emphasis, “If I may ask, how was life in the city before it, uh, burned down?” 

Dream hesitated. He wanted to trust her, he really wanted to trust  _ someone _ . But he didn’t know what she thought of the succession crisis, didn’t know if she would fight for him or try to slit his throat in the middle of the night. 

“Um. It was fine. Busy, as usual.” He could get away with this, right? He lied before, he could lie just a little more. To protect himself. To protect  _ Tubbo _ . 

She nodded. “Did you live with your parents?” Puffy got to work, dumping some of the clothes into the pool and holding her hand out for the soap. 

Dream passed it over before saying, “Ye- Yeah. That’s why I don’t really know how to take care of Tubbo. Mom always did it…” He conjured up an image of a family in his mind, something he could reference for questions. Composing it like a painting, he could almost see the parents standing in the back above their beloved children. 

“Mom” was neither his mother nor Tubbo’s. He used the face of a nursemaid, her wispy hair escaping a tight bun and her hands politely clasped in front of a neat dress. She would be tired from the same work Dream was doing now, bent over scrubbing stained clothes. “Dad” couldn’t be the dead king, no, instead Dream chose the face of his old sword fighting teacher, an older man with a long scar on his cheek that cut into a trimmed beard. And then the two sons, Dream and Tubbo, sitting on a bench in front. They wore clothes that were nice, but not of royalty. Functional, not opulent. 

“I’m sorry,” Puffy said. 

“It’s fine. Are your parents…?” 

“They’re gone, yes. Have been for some time now. What did your family do?” 

“My mom kept house mostly, sometimes she would work in the bookshop down the road. Dad was a castle guard. He was never home much, even though home wasn’t too far from the walls.” He couldn’t stretch the truth too far, or else he might slip up with no way to backtrack. It was strategic, every detail he included. If he somehow mentioned seeing a view only accessible from the castle walls, he had an out. If he quoted a poet, he could explain it away. 

“Oh, I see. That’s how you got those burns.” 

“What?” He looked at her puzzledly. She didn’t seem to realize how odd what she just said was, she just mindlessly scrubbed clothes while squatting in the water. 

“Your house was close to the castle. That’s where the fires were strongest, right?” she said. 

“Y-yes,” he stammered. How did she know that? Had he ever said anything about the fires at all? He wouldn’t have, right? 

“I’m so sorry you got caught up in that mess. That explosion must have been big.” 

“What explosion?”  _ How? How does she know about that? It was  _ under _ the castle! _

“Oh, right, you would have been asleep…” 

“I’m sorry- I’m- I’m so confused. Do you know what happened that night?” 

“Your dad was a guard, right Dream?” She pushed her hair behind her horns so she could look at him better. 

“Yeah…” 

“So you must know how people have been disagreeing about who should be the next king, right?” 

“Of course, it was all everyone was talking about since His Majesty got ill.” His father’s title didn’t feel out of place on his tongue. It sat there as it always had, cold and unconcerned. 

“Well, even though I live alone out here, I still travel here and there. I overheard once of a plot contrived by the nobles. They support Prince Clay, son of the Queen.” Puffy continued to wash the clothes, not noticing how still Dream became. “It was some nasty stuff. Wanted to plant explosions around the castle before the duel just in case Prince Clay would lose. If he did, they were going to revolt and stage a coup.”

_ W-what? _

Dream’s hands shook. This was  _ news _ to him. I-it wasn’t Technoblade or any of that  _ concubine’s  _ sons and their supporters who planted the explosions. It was the aristocrats themselves, his  _ very own _ supporters. The people who stood behind him, showering him with praises and whispering in his ear of the throne that was his very  _ birthright _ .

The Duke who applauded his level of education and the Countess that would sneer at every prince but him. Even his  _ own  _ mother the Queen. They were the highest of the people, noble blood and origins all hailing him as the one true prince. Did- did they all plan this? Were they behind the fires that plagued his mind and marred his own skin? The reason why he had fallen from his high throne and cast broken and dying into the forests?

The explosions almost  _ killed _ him, almost killing Tubbo and it killed- Did they even care if he died?

Then the words sank even deeper, piercing through his heart.

They planted the bombs  _ before _ the duel even happened. They  _ expected  _ him to lose. The nobles, his very supporters, had no trust in Prince Clay and had planned an entire coup and revolt without bothering to tell him. 

_ They didn’t TRUST him. _

Was he even the prince he thought he was? He was Prince Clay, the one true prince and only son of the  _ real _ queen. Yet how could he think of himself as such when the nobles didn’t even try to include him in their plans, excluding him like a naive child being barred from the adults. The nobles didn’t even think of him enough as a prince, or even as a  _ person _ , to tell him about the coup and the explosions below his very feet. Was he even anywhere close to what he believed himself to be, or was it all just convoluted illusions and lies spun by the people around him? H-he was a good prince, the _ best _ prince. He  _ had _ to be-

“Clearly, from the explosions, Prince Clay must’ve been losing. I never wanted or supported their plans, but what could a lone person like me living far in the forest do?” Puffy casually said, interrupting Dream’s thoughts. “I won’t know until much later what the outcome of it all would be, or who’d be the next in line for king. For all we know, the entire royal family could be dead.” 

His heart thudded in his chest, mind swirling and screaming. It was so loud, so many whispers and so many _ lies _ . He had to know what was true and what wasn’t. He was the true prince, he  _ had _ to be, right? 

With a shaky voice, he turned to Puffy. He could trust her, right? She would tell him the truth, the fact that it was Prince Clay and him alone who deserved the crown. “Who do you want to be king?”  _ Please say Clay, please say Clay, please say Clay- _

“Oh that’s easy! Prince Philza. He’s the oldest, he’s level-headed, and he doesn’t pick too many fights. He’ll be a great king. Wilbur’s removed himself from the line of succession, but I think he’d be okay. It would be interesting to have a philosopher-king instead of another warrior, but oh well. And those other two? Clay and Technoblade? I’d rather not have my kingdom in the hands of a fifteen-year-old, birthright or destiny be damned.” 

“...Oh.”

His mind was empty, completely silent for once. Only a single thought danced around his head, a voice sounding scarily alike to his mother.

_ They don’t trust you _ .

“Do you disagree?” 

“No, I just- I never had an opinion. I don’t really care. It doesn’t matter to me.”  _ Lie _ . “I just wished it could have been resolved without… without fire.” That was the truth. 

Puffy sighed. “That’s just the way the world works,” she said. “It sucks, but violence seems to be the only thing everyone understands.” 

“I know.”  _ The only universal language is violence. _ It was a sentiment explored by one of Techno’s favorite philosophers. A sentiment clearly supported by the aristocrats, apparently.

“I’d go to the capital to get news, but I can wait patiently until news of the coronation gets to me. Who knows who survived and who didn’t. We might need a whole new royal family if things went really wrong.” She said it so casually like she wasn’t talking about the possible death of his  _ family _ . Of him. Of  _ Tubbo _ .

Dream had nothing to say. Not to Puffy who declared with ease of her support for Philza and denouncing Prince Clay without a moment’s hesitation. Not to the nobles who had expected him to fail from the start and set off the explosions. Not even to his own mother, the Queen who had been feeding him lies and misconceptions of a throne that clearly was never about him. All three of them probably wouldn’t even blink an eye at a dead Prince Clay, the failure of a prince. The prince no one wanted. The prince no one  _ trusted _ .

He had to scrub quickly so she wouldn’t see the shake in his hands. Dream looked down the river so she couldn’t see his face that was pale with fear. 

_ The nobles didn’t trust me. _

_ Puffy doesn’t want me to be king. _

_ … Did anybody even want him to be king? _

Puffy started humming. It was an old tune, one Dream had only heard sung by the elderly sailors at the piers in the city. Cut-up lyrics escaped her lips, painting a scene of a boat on the waves, bending to sea and sky. The sloshing of the water and the bubbles that swirled around their legs were pleasantly atmospheric, maybe Dream could lose his mind in a fantasy so he could ignore the revelations. 

He stood straight and stretched with his hands on his lower back. His knife was still there. He looked down the river. He could escape. He was taller and stronger. The only disadvantage he had was his tiredness. 

_ But Tubbo…  _

He didn’t know how to take care of  _ himself _ in the wilderness, let alone a baby. How was he going to do this? 

“Hey! Are you good?” 

“Yeah! Yeah, just... tired.” 

“Okay, let's go home and you can take a nap. I think I have some dry goods we can eat for lunch so I won’t have to light a fire.” 

There she went again, confusing the boy who had lost nearly everything. One moment, she was casually mentioning his possible death, the next she was being sensitive about the fires. 

_ Damnit, this is hard.  _

He got out of the water. Despite how distracted he was, the laundry had turned out surprisingly well, with only the slightest brown mark left on Tubbo’s little pants. Puffy was already a little up the path, the basket resting on her hip. He jogged to catch up with her. 

“Aren’t you missing something, my little duckling?” she teased when she glanced down at his wet feet. 

“Heh, right.” He ran back to get the boots.

~~~

Three weeks passed in the little cottage in the woods. Dream was making sandwiches when Puffy came back from the city with supplies. The bread knife, long and serrated, almost slipped from his sweaty hand. 

“Ducklings, I’m home!” she called, slamming the door behind her. Tubbo who was sitting on the floor behind Dream squealed and waddled into the front room to greet her. Dream couldn’t help but smile when he heard their laughter. 

With Tubbo on her hip, Puffy peeked around Dream’s broad shoulders to look at the three sandwiches. 

“Sweetberry jam?” she asked, “I thought you hated that.” 

“I do,” he sighed, “But we ran out of all the decent spreads.” 

“You should have told me before I left, I could have gotten some honey. I got you some boots, though.” 

“Sorry- and thank you.”

She shrugged and stepped towards the table.“You’re welcome. I don’t mind sweetberry. And I know Tubbo likes it, don’t you, duckling?” She tickled the baby’s nose while he tried to playfully swat her away. 

“Stop it!” he squealed. 

Dream chuckled. “Anything for Tubbo,” he said. After wiping the knife on a towel, he brought the plate to the table. There was only one stool which Puffy let Dream have. She was short enough that the tall, bench-like table was the perfect height for her to rest her elbows on comfortably. She stood with one hand on Tubbo’s back, keeping him from tumbling off the ledge where he sat. 

They ate in peace. Dream indeed hated the sweetberry jam. It was too seedy and sour for his taste, and he didn’t want to upset Puffy by stealing all of the sugar to make it the least bit bearable. At least the peanut butter was the same as the castle’s. Dream finished his sandwich quickly. The bread he used was at the end of the loaf where it tapered, with more crust than he could imagine anyone liking. 

Through a mouth dry from the peanut butter, Puffy said, “I got some news today!”

“Oh?” said Dream as he grabbed a napkin from the counter for Tubbo. 

“Yeah. Keep an eye on Tubbo while I get it.” After making sure Dream had a firm hand on him, Puffy skipped into the front room to rifle through the bags she brought home with her. The distant grumblings and the rustling of paper were amusing and Dream had to keep Tubbo from falling off the table when he leaned over to look through the doorway. 

“Please don’t hurt yourself, little man,” Dream whispered to himself. He pulled Tubbo closer and kissed his head. 

“Aha!” Puffy exclaimed, “Found it!” She came back into the kitchen waving a piece of paper above her head like a battle flag. 

“What does it say?” 

Puffy cleared her voice. “To the esteemed subjects of the Kingdom of Lantis...,” she said in a posh and stilted accent. Dream laughed nervously. She sounded like his mother, especially the way she enunciated her t’s. 

Abandoning the accent, Puffy continued. “In light of our recent tragedies, namely of the explosion that occurred within the walls of the Royal Castle and the untimely death of our monarch, the Crown would like to make its people aware of the updated line of succession, officially established on the third of this month. 

“The eldest son of the late monarch, Prince Philza, is hereby recognized as the Crown Prince. His coronation will occur on the sixteenth.”

Dream ignored the scream clawing at his throat, begging to be let out. What could he even say at this point?

“Second in line is Prince Technoblade. Prince Wilbur has once again elected to remove himself from consideration for the honor of the Crown.” 

“The Crown is saddened by the loss of Prince Clay, Prince T-” Puffy stopped reading to look at Dream. Her brow knit itself into a puzzle as she read the last word, “Tubbo?” 

Dream shrugged, trying to ignore the bead of sweat dripping down his back and the anger igniting in his chest. “It’s a common enough name in the city. Dad had heard the prince was named that and liked it.” 

“Oh. Hmm, there’s some other stuffy garbage here, but none of it’s important, just more funeral announcements,” she said. Her mouth widened into a smile. “I got what I wanted.” 

“I’m glad.”  _ Lie. _ He didn’t meet her eyes, and she noticed. 

“You know, it’s okay to disagree with me about the princes,” she said. It sounded almost like she was joking, like it was funny that Dream didn’t seem to realize she was a friend.  _ She’s not a friend. _

“I’ve told you so many times that I don’t have an opinion.”  _ Lie. _

“Then how come when I bring it up, you get so defensive?” 

It wasn’t because the coup the nobles failed to inform him about failed in the end, and his deserved throne was given to Phil. It wasn’t because he and Tubbo were so easily assumed dead. It wasn’t because Puffy was so  _ happy _ with it all, even if she didn’t realize that most of the “dead” princes were right before her and being told of their funerals.

“I… it’s just… the whole succession thing caused the fires, right? So that’s what killed my parents, that’s what burned down my home, what burned my  _ face _ . I don’t want to think about something that’s responsible for ruining my life.” Even though half of it was a lie, half of it was twisted, the sliver of truth, his real emotions, created tears in the corners of his eyes. He could feel his voice threatening to break, to shatter just like the windows that broke in the explosion. 

Puffy dropped the light tone. Her eyes darkened as she cast them down on his bare feet, pink and scarred. “I’m sorry. I won’t bring it up again.” She breathed deeply and tucked the royal decree in her coat’s pocket. 

She moved to clean up the table, and even though Dream had taken over doing that, he let her. 

“Did you use the rest of that loaf?” she asked softly as wool. 

“Yeah.” His back was turned to her. Tears dripped down his face. He prayed she didn’t see. He didn’t want to explain, didn’t want the dam to break and spill all of the truths he had kept hidden away so carefully so she wouldn’t turn on him. 

“Then I need to make more. Do you want to take Tubbo on a walk while I do that?” She would need to use the fireplace. 

“Sure.” 

...

“Take the axe for firewood, too.” 

...

“Yes, ma’am.” 

...

“Duckling?” 

...

“Yeah?” 

...

“I’m sorry.” 

...

Dream slammed the door behind him, Tubbo at his side. His hands were shaking as his little brother grabbed his fingers. Somehow, he had his new boots on and a bag over his shoulder, full of snacks and a canteen. 

“Dream?” Tubbo said, his hand tightening. 

“Yeah, Tubbo?” Dream squeaked. He was still crying, hot tears pouring out of a heart both empty and ablaze, longing and angry. 

“Are you sad like me?” 

“What?” Dream picked Tubbo up. Their faces were level now, and the little boy looked at the scarred face of his brother with infinite concern. 

“Last night I heard crying.” 

“I’m fine, Tubbo. Everyone cries a little, don’t you do that too?” said Dream as he wiped his cheek. Touching the warped skin of his burns, even though they had been healed, was still a surprise to his hand. 

“Yeah… but you don’t want Miss Puffy to see.” Tubbo’s voice was quiet like he knew Puffy could be listening. After spending three weeks with her, Dream knew that was unlikely, but he still walked away from the house. Just to be safe. 

Dream shrugged. “I’m just like that. She doesn’t need to know everything about us.” He kept walking, circling the house to the shed in the back where the axe was kept. 

“Dream?” asked Tubbo. 

“Yeah?”

“When are we going home?” 

Dream sighed. “I don’t know.” He kissed Tubbo’s head again before he set him down. Funny, that.  _ All that time I’ve lived with him down the hall, and only now I’m being even remotely brotherly.  _

“Dream?” 

“What?” He opened the shed and took out the axe. It wasn’t for combat, but it was still a better weapon than the knife he still had hidden. 

“Can we pick berries?”

“No, I don’t want to. And Puffy wants us to get firewood, remember?” 

Tubbo pouted, sticking his bottom lip out as far as he could. 

At that moment, Dream was reminded of himself. Tubbo wasn’t selfish, but he was still a prince, raised with entitlements. Tubbo wanted berries, Dream wanted the crown…

But did he? Did he want to fight for it again, did he want to risk his family again? Did he want to go back to the backstabbing and spying and  _ destiny  _ of the court life that his mother had wanted, had prepared, had tried to  _ force  _ on him? Did he even want that when they didn’t even trust him, didn’t even care if he had  _ died _ ?

And staying with Puffy, how would that affect his- their future? Would they be able to hide here forever, or would the gravity of his old life one day pull him back? If the nobles couldn’t even bother to trust him, the son of the Queen himself, then how could Puffy trust him? A dirty, naive kid with all the knowledge of combat and politics but a fool with chores. A boy who hid a knife and was ready to attack and run at any moment.

_ Can I even trust Puffy? _

He stared at Tubbo. The axe’s handle felt familiar, a weight balanced so perfectly in his hand, a symbol of power and a symbol of strength. 

Dream had no power. He was a prince not trusted or liked by his own supporters, presumed dead, defeated in combat, and then crushed under rubble. Could he make a triumphant return to the capital, rallying his allies for a challenge to the Crown? Perhaps. But how would that end? With even more tears than the brothers had cried in the last weeks? With wounds even more serious than burns and scratches? With more lies and whispers and distrust?

Dream didn’t have the strength. He couldn’t regain his old life. But maybe,  _ just maybe _ , he could make a new one. 

“Tubbo?” 

“Yeah?” 

Dream took his hand and led him into the woods. 

“Let’s go get some firewood.”  **_Lie_ ** _. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everybody, Wax here! I'm really sorry about the late update. Finals are coming up and I wanted to make this chapter actually good, so I took my time. I hope you are all having a lovely day and if you have any questions, please ask them in the comments! I'll do my best to respond (no spoilers obvs) and I love interacting with you! 
> 
> NK - Y'all sorry for the one-week late chapter. These beautiful interludes are literally written solely by Wax and only edited by me so she's been carrying everything recently. Also, this technically could've been posted earlier but I was late in editing so oops! Hope y'all enjoy reading!

**Author's Note:**

> This was written together by NKhaotic and Waxflowerwoes. This is the major project we have been planning and writing for months! We had been stewing and working on this idea for sooo long and we are so glad to finally start posting it! You don't understand the extent of worldbuilding and history we crammed into this. This work was inspired by Tangled, but at this point, it's only loosely related. 
> 
> Edit: We will now be posting every two weeks on Saturday!
> 
> Check out NKhaotic's Tumblr @NKhaotic and IG @ileyank. Please comment and tell us what you think!


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